


Forces Intertwined: Part 2

by marla_singer21



Series: Forces Intertwined [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Cunnilingus, Divergent Timelines, Drama, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Choking (Star Wars), Force Dyad (Star Wars), Force Healing, Guilt, Love, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Canon Relationship, Oral Sex, Part 2 of Trilogy, Power Dynamics, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Simultaneous Orgasm, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Rey/Kylo Ren, Soulmates, Tender Sex, The Force, Trauma, True Love, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:13:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23738881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marla_singer21/pseuds/marla_singer21
Summary: Six months after the events ofForces Intertwined: Part 1, Rey follows her separate path from Kylo Ren, excelling under Luke Skywalker's tutelage as they hide from both the Resistance and the First Order. Meanwhile, Kylo assists Supreme Leader Snoke in searching for a mysterious weapon that will ensure the First Order's control over the galaxy. Unbeknownst to their masters, however, both Rey and Kylo still struggle with the power of their Force connection and the raw wounds left by their fateful time together. Circumstances are further complicated when the Resistance, still seeking Luke's help to thwart Snoke's plans for domination, enters into the fray and General Leia Organa causes Rey to question Luke's teachings and her own conflicting instincts.Little time passes before Rey and Kylo both realize that, whether by their bond or by the galactic conflict, they can no longer avoid facing each other once more. But will they be able to confront their feelings of love, desire, and betrayal before the rising tide of war forces them to destroy one other?
Relationships: Kylo Ren & Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey/Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Forces Intertwined [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709902
Comments: 65
Kudos: 63





	1. The Paradox of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone, especially my Reylo family--I adore you and appreciate all the support you've shown me over the past few years! Thank you for your interest in my story. Before you begin, I should preface this by saying that if you have not read _Forces Intertwined: Part 1_ , I would recommend you stop and read it first, just to understand the characters' history and gain context for some of the references that will be made in this story. You can find the first installment also on AO3, at this link: 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/6101911
> 
> Either way, I invite you to come along with me for the long haul. I hope you enjoy the story and find it different from other pieces of Reylo adult fiction you have read. Please come aboard this ship with me, and please feel free to let me know what I can do to improve. I welcome your feedback and thank you again for taking an interest. Cheers, friends!

1

The worlds between the stars trusted in predictable progression.

Rey knew this to be true.

The suns’ light brought warmth and prosperity. Jyalma season bore the winds on Soccoro. The alternate dimension connected one planet to the next.

According to those sureties, Rey’s breath would steam cloudy beneath the winter twilight. The ice-capped lip of the cave opening would burn her naked hand with its chill. The weight of her step would pack the snowfall, and if the tundra ever melted, that footprint would delay the thaw and the growth, the insect and the predator, the birth and the death.

Undoubtedly, the laws of nature yielded reliable certainties, truths that carried even the least logical through the short span of a lifetime. That cycle continued regardless of any acknowledgment from the fleeting and the fragile. 

But not in this ice-blue world.

Rey’s footstep fell soft and silent on the layer of roseate rhinestones adorning the wintry ground. Unblinking even in the bright blush of dusk, she peered into the hollow of the grotto and exhaled. The vapor she expected never came to block her view. The sting she anticipated from the frosty fringe never nipped her fingers. Here, all that lay behind and before her was artificial, a realm frozen in time and property.

Though based in nature, this world was a mere representation. It existed beyond the superficial order of all life. Every color and texture gave the appearance of a perfect imitation, but the million brilliant sights lacked their other organic attributes. This was the unseen world between, the rendered landscape of everything it connected. 

Rey knew why she had been allowed to tread here. After all, she was one of the few who possessed the gift. Throughout the ages, it had chosen to reveal itself only to the sensitive. Her own spirit had grown so acutely aware of it as to be inseparable.

The Force. The dynamic tangle of energy connecting all things. The Force was a paradox, ever present but eternally out of reach to everyone who trusted in that universal grasp of cause and effect. In the Force, anything was possible, even feats that defied the tried-and-true certainties. In that sacred vitality, nothing was as it seemed. To grow strong in the Force, one had to abandon a life of learned limitations, including all the mental trappings of sight and predictability. One had to embrace the clarity that years of commonly understood constructs only muddled. To the perceptive who sought that enlightenment, the Force asked for so little…although Rey had found it demanded absolutely everything.

It pulled her forward again, a magnet drawing her into that familiar gap in the glacier. Gradually, the vibrant cerulean painting the tunnel walls faded with the entrance at her back. With every step, the promise of life drained with the azure from the floe.

Before she even realized, Rey found herself at that precarious point, that place still so warmed by the light but chilled by the chiaroscuro of what lay ahead. Here, the crystalline crumbles encasing her were by far their most exquisite. Like the hollow of a precious geode, the icy walls glistened a sharp luminescence—a perilous but breathtaking beauty as to be seen nowhere else in the universe. The rare, violaceous radiance that resulted was a phenomenon only the half-light could capture. So worth the reward if one could navigate it, that perfection only revealed itself here, in the middleground.

_The grey._

But one step too far and….

Rey would have recognized that decisive line even if it had not been bathed in sickly maroon shade. As soon as she crossed it, the divine and delicate balance of the grey faded with the light’s dying breath. The narrow passage seemed suddenly too claustrophobic around her, the shadows ahead too eerily rubescent. In her heart, she wanted only to remain there, behind that thin line between the light and the dark she knew so well. But the call would not allow it, as it never allowed her stay. 

She had to see it. She had to be reminded.

If her body had been present, Rey knew she would have felt that phantom blade twist in her gut as she delved deeper into the dim. If only the Force led her to some hideous monster, some deadly foe, some ominous vision of the future—even to her own bitter death—she would be more willing to face what lay head. 

However, the course forever remained the same. With each shuffle through the soundless snow, the radiating red guided her through the darkness just a little more, until, at last, the tight tunnel mouth yawned hell fire ahead. This glow now lit the ice shaft at her shoulders as brightly as the blue had brought her. That violent rose, that cautionary hue…forever etched in her memory.

 _Please, not again_ , Rey pleaded even as her feet carried her toward the cavern. Gelid dread drained from her heart and flooded her veins.

The end came so quickly this time, as if the journey had somehow grown shorter since she had last taken it. All at once, the cramped passageway opened wide to a terrible emptiness. Again, her feet teetered on the dead-end edge of an Imperial mining crater beneath a ceiling of ruby-lit frost. 

Terrified of acknowledging what she knew lay below, Rey stood on the pit’s icy ledge and watched the shimmer of that sunken glare blaze electrically off the dome above. The strong hand of the Force never allowed her to shut her eyes. After all, this was the world between; her eyes were not really there. But maybe if she refused to look regardless, just maybe, things would be different this time. Was that not enough compromise, given that all she wanted to do was turn and run? Considering how much she yearned for the warm embrace of the light that had led her to this torment. If only she _could_ go back. If only she had never crossed that alluring line into the grey in the first place.

If only she did not have the capacity to do the things she had done. 

Feeling the mass of her terror lodge firmly in her chest, Rey dared to hope as she stared into the depths of the mine. As usual, the diaphanous divots and incandescent cracks plummeted like the frosted skin of some old giant, leading lower, pointing her down, down, to the very bottom of that terrible grave.

But there it was. The tri-blade of the familiar lightsaber crackled crimson as it lit the caldera and revealed her fears. Unmoved, it lay atop the chalky snowfall lining the jagged floor. One might have thought the weapon abandoned were it not for the unmistakable mounds of a dark hand protruding near the hilt. 

An impossible wind gusted into the crater then, swirling a snow-filled cyclone as if to expose those gloved fingers further, as if Rey did not already know that hand, that crossguard, in her blood. As if she did not know the ribbed fabric of that sleeve, stiff and skewered by the icicle that had impaled it during the fall. As if she did not inherently know the powdered tuft of black hair uncovered then, yards away from its body—the victim of some dark act—now exposed in sanguine clarity to its killer’s absolute horror….

Rey bolted upright.

Her wide eyes met darkness. The sudden shift was so jarring, the pitch surrounding her so dense and disorienting that her mind fumbled to free itself from her anguish. That enduring sight of red death seared her vision as though she had stared into a dying sun.

Thankfully, the afterimage faded quickly this time. Reality soon took its place, although a wave of nausea followed it. Rey tried to swallow the upset in her body and soul, but catching her breath took precedence. Gradually, she found the sticky night air and drew it in slowly and purposely, just as she had been taught: _one…hold…two…release_ , _one…hold…two…release_. The rehearsed exercise proved effective once more, and her fingers soon loosened their death grip on the blanket bunched at her waist.

Mentally and physically steadied, Rey coughed through the final tremors of her nightmare before reaching for the canteen set next to her cot. The water she gulped down was a small but welcome comfort—a necessary reminder of the real world removed from the punishment of her mind.

Slinging her bare legs over the edge of her bed, Rey waited for her stinging eyes to adjust to the blackness. In the meantime, she pulled her sleeping tunic up over her head and used a dry patch to wipe the sweat from her brow. The newfound nakedness felt good. Her hut had become increasingly stuffy during the growing season and all the storms it had brung. There would be no choice but to open the window in the future, no matter how much the rain blew in or the stark moonlight reminded her of….

_Peace, Rey._

As she had become apt to do, Rey avoided those thoughts, distracting herself with the jolt of the icy stone floor on her bare feet. Even if she tried to go back to sleep, it would not happen, or if it did, odds were that it would not be restful.

Finding the rucksack where she had left it beneath her small table, she pulled her last set of fresh clothes from the bottom. The drenched muslin she tossed in the pile for the freshwater falls. Rey realized those, as well as Luke’s robes, would have to be done after today’s training. Truthfully, though, she had never minded the extraneous responsibilities her master tacked on to his instruction. In fact, she found the normalcy of the routine oddly satisfying. Thankfully, not everything about her existence had to be so complicated.

Hastily clothed and booted, Rey swung the creaking door wide in search of fresh air. Her relief was instant as she was greeted by a blessedly cool breeze. It had cut the humidity, flowing steadily from the east to caress her temples on its way to the leafy timbers. Its salty origin had already awoken with the dawn, the inky ocean and starlit sky beginning their divide along the horizon. In about two hours, the birds would rise for the hunt, and their calls would join the chorus of the waves and the winds and the trees, and Rey would be at her master’s door to exchange breakfast for guidance.

Because she needed guidance, even lo these many months and all she had learned during that time. Because no matter how much she excelled, the dreams still came, and her mind still strayed. Because the hurt had never eased, and the thoughts—the emotions that threatened to…. None of it had lessened, no matter how she tried to assuage, overcome, or forget.

Apart from the ways she sabotaged her destiny with these failures, a more evident detractor remained embedded in the Force itself: the bond. That eternal cord tying her to _him_. It had never ceased.

_Clear your mind, Rey. Don’t think._

And Rey could tell Luke none of it, lest he mistake these issues for unworthiness. The very notion of telling him crushed her, the idea that Luke might think she had learned nothing from him. Although she had shown him—was _certain_ she had proven to him, so many times—how far she had come and how collected she had grown in the Force over these past six months, she knew he would not understand. 

He was, after all, a true Jedi, and the Jedi knew only calm and tranquility. Someday, she would too. 

Until then, there was no way she could disclose the dual nature of her progress. How could she articulate the depths to which she _understood_ how much stronger she had become despite everything that actively worked against her? The evidence presented itself so often, even on the bad days, and often in ways she could not express. Rey only wished she could convey to Luke how much he had helped her. The light within her had grown so bright and, perhaps more importantly, so stable since that fateful day he had saved her in the Ilum snow.

With a slight shake of her head, Rey cut off the rising thoughts of the dream that haunted her. She instead crossed the clearing to the center of their camp with unnecessary urgency. Squatting next to the circle of chunked marl, she plunged her hands into Luke’s oversized flight gloves and overturned the reptile shell. As usual, the evening’s coals sweltered beneath their dusty cover. Dutifully, Rey uncovered and added the rest of the fresh kindling she had gathered the previous week.

As she stoked the fire, her eyes drifted up to the rocky cliffsides that framed both sides of their cove. Her stone stack on the western point had toppled during the previous evening’s tempest. Each mossy cobble she had levitated now lay strewn about her resting rock. Beyond them, the orange climb of morning split the skyline, the day and the night meeting briefly before going their separate ways. The latter was now dimmer above the pastel daybreak, as was the diamond twinkle of distant heavenly bodies.

So much time—and yet, so seemingly little—had passed since she had been so close as to touch those stars. The optimistic spark inside her longed for Luke to relent their secrecy just for one day and give her permission to take his X-wing up for a quick spin. However, the other part—the more realistic Rey—dreaded the rush of memory that would inevitably swallow her up with that cold blackness. The farther she ventured from their hiding place on Ushruu, the fresher the pain—perhaps even the greater the temptation—would resonate in the abysmal hole she had not been able to fill. 

_He_ existed beyond those stars—like her, living and breathing in their private limbo. She was certain of where. And any venture out into their small, shared universe was one step closer to him and the First Order. 

_There is no emotion, there is peace. Rey, there is no emotion, there is peace._

Rey closed her eyes and admonished her disloyal mind with a sigh. Below her bent knees, that huff fanned an enflamed coal and ignited the first fire of the morning. 

It was going to be one of the bad days, Rey could tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all you beautiful people! I hope you were able to find your way over to Part 2 from the first _Forces Intertwined_. If you're a new _F.I._ reader, welcome just the same!
> 
> As you can see, although a lot has changed for our Rey in the six months since the ending events of Part 1, many things have stayed the same. I wanted to open with a chapter that only touches the surface of Rey's new life and allots for more in-depth chapters later. Although Rey struggles with many of the same issues she did before, the passage of time under impartial tutelage has allowed her to grow in several ways unavailable to her before. Overall, I think you will see a much stronger woman in this installment than you did in the previous book, though she'll maintain the enduring spirit we love. We'll also soon discover the new complexities that haunt her feelings for Kylo, all of which she'll eventually have to navigate and overcome in one way or another. 
> 
> And, as you will see in the next chapter, Kylo is dealing with his own feelings in a far different way.
> 
> Thank you again, Reylo lovers! I hope you will keep reading and letting me know what you think as our two destined darlings continue their epic journey. Stay safe and stay well!
> 
> Music while writing: Folk Implosion - "Kingdom of Lies"  
> Tumblr: Reylo Inspiration


	2. A Wild Thing

2

“Rey.”

The delicate word shattered against the shadow in the steel.

_Rey._

Her name was a sigh. The exhale of a soul. It was the conclusion of a prayer. It was the supple smoke of a spent flame. The warm caress of daybreak.

Kylo Ren whispered it again. Again, his mask conveyed it to no one. “Rey.”

There it was. The pain. It swallowed the word, clinging to it like tar. Like he had clung to her in the snow. It coalesced every scattered, aimless inch of him.

Her name was an ache. A pointed reminder. It was a call to the monster that languished in his veins: that terrible thing that made him Kylo Ren.

She had silenced that demon during their time together. She had lulled it to sleep with her light and her kisses. Just as language had failed him when he’d tried to tell her the depth of his feelings, it would prove equally useless in describing the resurgence of his darkness since she had gone away. The absence of her warmth had left him in poverty, colder and more vacant than ever before. 

But the new torment had proved far different than any he had known before fate had reacquainted them. Like the passing of a perfect storm, the devastation she had left behind required more navigation than the anger that had fueled his youth. Now, the hopeless thing inside him was slow to wake. It required prodding, provocation—especially in situations like this, when only his life was at stake.

But once the darkness woke….

Her youthful face flashed behind his eyes, burning him with its brilliant, open-mouthed smile. Smiling brightly…at him. _He_ had made her smile. Despite all he had done to hurt her, he had given her joy. They had known happiness together in their private, pitfallen universe. What had she once said to him? _“I don’t think I was ever meant to be anywhere else more than…with you.”_ She had believed it with all her brave, pure heart.

_And you ruined it all, didn’t you? Because that’s what you do. That’s what you’ve always done. It’s why they never wanted you. You were never worthy of it._

The specter in the steel noticeably twitched. 

_Use it._ The world beyond his mask dimmed as the poison surged from his lifeless core. _Let it fuel you. Find your strength._

Kylo purged his body in one steadied breath. Once again, the familiar hollow in his chest spread like a flood of molten lead. She had once filled that place. Her starlight had swelled within him so wholly that knowing she would never fill it again left him emptier than he ever thought possible. To feel the unifying flare of anger there now—something, anything, there rather than nothing—gave lucid relief. 

Another controlled gasp for air escaped his lips before his jaw clenched again. His body hardened as his composure belied the chaos gripping every fiber and sinew. The hurt coursed with his racing pulse, thudding in time with the fists he gathered and loosened at his sides. Ominous feelings stirred to fuel it. Even the monstrous desire he reserved only for her came to its aid. Transformed though it was, his self-hatred was an old friend who welcomed him back with arms wider than ever. 

Kylo embraced the power gratefully, desperately, letting it scald him. Although the danger that lay ahead was of his own design, it required every ounce of his strength to survive. 

He had demanded this. He required it. He needed to be sharpened like a knife. He needed to taste blood…even if it was his own.

Steadying his tall frame with a final huff, Kylo tilted his mask toward the Stormtrooper who still stood quietly in the distance.

Instantly, the figure in the steel split in two as the doors hissed to life. A mere second later, Kylo was drenched in burnt sienna.

The world beyond was blinding despite the haze. On the planet’s surface, the Morcanth atmosphere deceived the deep maroon it appeared from space, to the point where one might not even believe it to be the same world. The air, the ground, the perpetually overcast skies—all were tinted the same shade of red brick clay. The climatic winds perpetuated this by stirring the sands over the rock that covered much of the globe. Regardless, the air near the planet’s equator remained sufficiently breathable when the worst of the storms passed and the dust settled, though they left a thick reminder on everything they touched. 

Staring into the distance, Kylo saw the mined ore that had been used to build the new South Annex was already painted the same grubby carmine as everything else. The soaring wall that separated the recent addition from his open gridiron was no different, barely distinguishable from the sediment under his boots. 

The door slid closed behind him, leaving him alone in the open air. A gust swirled dry earth about his legs. The petrified foot of the mountain lay visible beyond the gaps in the base towers surrounding the perimeter. 

Though Kylo rarely descended to this sector of the base, the sight was as he had expected: another dingy view of the same barren landscape. Now more than ever, he found Da’k’s desolation more than fitting for the new headquarters of the First Order.

Interrupting his thoughts, a much larger gate on the opposite site of the training ground began to open, carving a black hole in the periphery.

Kylo heard the thing before it appeared. Its fearsome call echoed throughout the great expanse. 

Exhaling slowly, Kylo widened his stance. His right hand wrapped around the hilt at his belt at the same instant the creature emerged from the stronghold.

Of the few gundarks Kylo had seen in that long-ago time when he had been someone else, this was by far the largest. Judging from where it reached as it stood upright in the gateway, he sized it as at least nine feet tall. Its brawny upper body was nearly as wide as Kylo was tall, its frame forming a kind of sinewy V that met at its narrow waist and dropped to its disproportionately short legs. The musculature defining its massive chest and dominant shoulders protruded with obvious strength. Even the smaller, secondary set of arms at its midsection bulged intimidatingly.

For its young age, such a size was impressive. The clumped brown fur that lined its scalp, neck, and elbows like tree bark had nowhere near lightened with time. Only the beast’s enormous trademark ears indicated its maturity, extending outward and curling skyward in that typical gundarkian progression. The slanted folds of its primitive face formed a scowl only embellished by its protruding lower fangs.

Also revealing were the many scars that dotted and striped the beast’s naturally scarlet skin. This gundark had obviously survived many an arena battle, a feature that Kylo found pleasing. Such a detail drew his respect. He had ordered the trainer to bring the deadliest in the galaxy, after all.

To say the champion was also agitated was an understatement. All 16 of its thick talons swung about in savage, thrashing movements as it blinked in the diffused daylight. Now in the open, it unleashed another deafening, high-pitched roar as its deeply inset eyes adjusted to the light. The warning showed every single razor-sharp tooth in its exaggerated mouth. For a species already known for its inherent viciousness and aggression, this one was especially irritated.

“Not so different, you and I,” Kylo mused out loud.

The horn-like ears flattened slightly. The gundark lowered the backs of its oversized claws from where it rubbed its eyes. Shifting in Kylo’s direction, the creature’s great mass hunkered slightly. Its bald forehead tilted downward as its eyes slit at the only other creature in the gridiron.

Leisurely, Kylo drew his weapon. As though he were a beast of equal training, the slide of the activator triggered the excitement in his veins. Hundreds of battles lay strewn in the ashes of his past. But this time, his crossguard would be his only resource. No matter what happened, he would not use his Force telekinesis. He sought the disadvantage, the uncertainty…the fear to fuel his anger. Anything to disconnect from who he was for one moment in time.

The creature let loose a final ear-splintering shriek. Then, it was gone, in motion—charging straight toward Kylo beneath the roiling, hellfire sky.

Kylo heard the ignited pulse of his own energy surge as the figure conquered the yardage. Even with such bulk, this gundark was fast, faster than he remembered the species to be. It seemed to grow larger as it galloped, as did the honed hooks it used to propel itself. It was a promise of what was to come.

In what seemed no time at all, the beast was halfway to Kylo and closing fast. Its mighty reach would find his flesh soon.

Kylo listened to the grind of each of his boots digging sideways into the grit. Drawing a final breath, he envisioned her smile one last time. And then her tears.

_Rey._

Kylo sprinted forward.

The creature appeared unfazed. In fact, the offensive only seemed to incense it further. Locked in Kylo’s shaky sights, it snarled from the hollow of a jagged mouth as wide as its head. Even in the smog, its spikey teeth glistened.

Kylo picked up speed. The wind whistled past his covered ears. The beast would have him in mere moments. He had to be fast. His movements had to be meaningful. They had to be fueled by his pain. Yet, they had to be nearly as methodical as the Jedi tactics he had taught her. Not an ounce of effort could be wasted.

Close to collision, he clinched the slender alloy grip at his center. The crackling cutlass it spewed lowered over his right shoulder. If Kylo remembered nothing else from Ben Solo’s youth, it was that a head-on attack was never an option, not with a gundark. That foolish old smuggler had at least taught him that.

_Now._

In one swift motion, Kylo fell backward, bending like a blade of Chandrilian meadow grass. The motion came not an instant too soon. Primary claws meant for his head fanned over the surface of his visor. As he dipped, Kylo angled the rest of his body, following his momentum to skid, toes first, across the dirt beneath the creature’s hooked feet. He passed underneath on his side, one glove skirting the ground while the other brought his lightsaber up at an unforgiving angle.

The incision was brief but deep. Kylo’s opponent screeched loudly as the fiery blade split the crest of one stunted thigh. The damage brought the beast to an immediate stop. Like a crumbling bluff, it doubled over to grasp the fissure with its middle hands. At the same time, its gnarly, larger arms raged above its head.

Meanwhile, Kylo was already back on his feet. Covered in courtyard dust, he pivoted back just in time to meet a punishing slice from one claw. A second came just as quickly as the gundark spun toward him. Kylo fended off both, his lightsaber searing two of the beast’s black talons. Injured and frustrated, the creature puffed out the steel wall of its chest and roared foul breath down at its opponent.

Again, Kylo held his tri-blade at the ready, feeling the crimson heat settle over his arm. Despite its limited intelligence, the creature seemed to assess him. Its yellow eyes constricted in their sunken sockets. Unleashing all the foul air in its lungs, it bared its teeth in a cry for a fresh assault. 

It had understood, perhaps too well. Kylo slashed at the giant nails that swiped at him from the right. The defensive took an entire digit from the beast’s ruddy hand. But Kylo failed to notice the second, smaller set of talons. The sly blow connected with the hilt in his hands, smashing his fingers and sending the crossguard sailing high into the russet distance. A worthy trade.

The adrenaline pumping through Kylo’s veins spiked. Holding his breath, he ducked a paralyzing swat from left. He then jerked back to avoid a vicious swipe that would have surely sent his guts spilling. 

The beast moved with exceptional speed, Kylo conceded it. More so, he began to recognize just how much the stupor that had overtaken him affected his reflexes and reaction time. He would have to regain his lightsaber and quickly.

Wide-eyed beneath his mask, Kylo regathered his concentration only to divide his mind. One portion focused on reading the gundark’s movements to better anticipate its attacks. The twitch of every feral muscle clenching to life again became a signal. After all, Kylo had learned to read these signs long ago in his adversaries. He had been a brilliant warrior—the prized pupil. Though untamed, the beast was just as predictable at its crux. In fact, Kylo knew it moved slower than most who had fallen under his blade. 

They stayed like this for some time, locked in a brutal dance of onslaught and evasion. Grasping for his expert perception, Kylo dodged, ducked, and hurled himself—over and over—from every sharpened swipe and snapping bite. But he was also wise enough to know his time was running out.

At one point, the other half of Kylo’s mind reached out. Instantly, he had sensed that missing extension of himself. His crystal lay buried some 50 feet away. The temptation to simply pull his lightsaber back to him was innate. He could have it easily, just as he could surely send the beast sailing into the perimeter wall. Just as he knew he could kill the thing one of many intangible ways.

But that was nonnegotiable, no matter how safe. Otherwise, what had he done this for?

One of the creature’s red grapplers now thrust toward Kylo’s throat. In a seamless flow of motion, Kylo dipped and then pitched himself headfirst over the second set of pincers aimed at ripping him in two at the hips. He rolled his body with finesse, tumbling over one shoulder to project himself back to his feet. 

But the gundark was too astute despite its animality. It had anticipated Kylo’s cunning. 

Righting himself, Kylo felt the dagger of a large hook catch his left shoulder and rip down to the base of his rib cage. 

A guttural groan instantly vibrated his clenched teeth. The gash flared to life as he whirled around just in time to avoid another down his spinal cord. Backing away, he felt his tunic instantly dampen with cooling blood.

_There it is._

This pain was so different. But it was not to be discarded. Yes, the torn skin throbbed and the severed nerves stung. But this new agony was manageable. Valuable. Kylo let it wash over him, receiving it with raw relief. The fresh sensation buffeted him. For the first time since he’d returned from Ilum, the fog in his mind seemed to clear. Finally, some semblance of every soul-crushing emotion of the last few months was manifested in his skin. Physical agony at last rushed to alleviate the unseen ache.

He knew what real suffering was, after all. He had ever since she’d left. And this paled in comparison.

_Let it center you. Let the power of the dark side be your strength. Remember how it feels...to be powerful._

One monstrous hand wafted past Kylo’s face again. As he jumped back, he saw his own gore dripping from those black scythes.

The evidence of his misstep. It compounded the throb already beating in time with his vacant heart. The life force that still flowed through him suddenly erupted sky high. Torrid outrage engulfed his body like wildfire. The creature had dared, still dared to draw his blood. He, who had leveled cities and commanded legions. He, who had led the Knights of Ren until the Jedi were just a tall tale. He, who had already passed the greatest of tests and buried his lightsaber in Ben Solo’s father. 

Incensed, he dodged another two-armed attack that only disgusted him further. His movements were suddenly quicker, more vigorous. Angrier. The decadent Force he knew so intimately snaked and coiled its way through his body and mind, recharging every cell. And it felt _good_ , to fully give himself once more to that black embrace.

Kylo narrowed his eyes up at his attacker and drew a purposely agonizing breath. “Be sure to let me know when you start trying to kill me. I don’t want to miss it.”

Though the gundark could not have understood him, the tone of Kylo’s modulated voice seemed nuisance enough. Its cavernous ears flexed upward to a swirling sky of the same hue. Shaking its bestial head, the animal bellowed a final screeching threat from an unhinged jaw. It bore its injured haunches down into the upturned sand. It meant to jump. More importantly, it meant to crush.

But Kylo was already moving. At breakneck speed, he faked left and then dashed right. The beast’s main claws missed and flew overhead. On the periphery, Kylo turned to one massive arm and grabbed two tufts of hair in his fists. As he predicted, the creature jerked back in surprise. The forearm caught Kylo like a catapult, heaving him upward in one swift motion. Kylo held tightly for only a second, knowing a deadly swat would follow. But the powerful hoist had been more than helpful, and one boot found the lower left shoulder to propel himself the rest of the way onto the gundark’s ample back.

The beast went wild. Roaring like a revving starfighter engine, it thrashed about in primal panic. 

Reinforced by his anger, Kylo held firmly to the coarse hair covering the creature’s scruff. The smell of caves and sour earth filled his nostrils. He tucked his knees and gripped tightly to the last bit of mane covering a hidden spine. A second of hesitation was all he needed to reach and gouge two vulnerable eyes. But the gundark’s fury eclipsed even his own, instead whipping Kylo violently from side to side. To his advantage, each motion slung him away from the sets of arms that tried their best to reach back and scratch him off like a scab.

The opportunity never came. At last, one of the smaller, more flexible hands caught one of Kylo’s boots. Grasping his ankle, the beast jerked with such force that Kylo had to let go to avoid his bones being snapped in half. All at once, he was airborne for what seemed an eternity. The burgundy blur smacked dead into darkness as his sternum finally collided hard with the unforgiving ground and he skidded, mask down, to a stop in a mound of sand. 

Sheer rage alone kept Kylo from blacking out. Fighting his debility, he inched his head to the side until his mask cleared the sand. There, he choked in the wind that had been knocked from his chest. Coughing ensued, though not without a sharp price, and Kylo knew immediately the impact had re-torn some part of the damage she’d inflicted on him in her terrible rage. 

Stunned from head to toe, he squinted through his dirty visor. Miraculously, what came into focus was all too familiar. Twin vents of tarnished metal jutted upright from the sand not a foot from his face. Blurred behind them was the hulking frame of a speeding giant almost directly upon him.

Kylo jumped as if he’d received an electric jolt. Springing to his bruising knees, he snatched the hilt from the sand. There was no time to ignite it before the gundark’s claws sank deep into the trench his body had carved. But in one continuous movement, Kylo rolled to the side and, unleashing the fiery blade at the last second, carried it crosswise while launching his body to the tip of the creature’s tail.

The grating roar faded from his ears. Staring ahead, Kylo waited, his knees deep in terrene ash and his lightsaber bisecting the world beyond. He did not have to look to know the strike had been lethal. That fatal resistance was unmistakable. By now, he knew all too well the feel of flesh and bone.

Empowered by every complaint of his body, Kylo climbed to his feet. No sooner did he extinguish the plasma blade into silence than he heard both thuds: the gundark’s gigantic torso striking the sand, followed by everything from the hips down. 

The arid air again skirled softly. Somewhere in the distance, a garbled voice announced something over a PA system. Light-years away, a Takodana timber fell, unseen, and landed where he had caught her in his arms.

Not even bothering to acknowledge his triumph, Kylo began lumbering toward the far perimeter from which he’d come. Behind his gate, the new settlement of the First Order towered over his arena. Level upon level staggered up Starfarer Mountain like a conk bract on decaying wood, as though the gunmetal jut of every barrack, sector, and arsenal of the complex sucked the last bit of life from the practically lifeless planet. 

At the same time, the base was a sight to behold, especially now, in the dusk of Kylo’s test. The sun was setting behind its smoggy veil. This brought out the pale light that glistened from every transparent window and porthole. The effect studded the valley and drab mountainside rising behind it, adorning them both like a cast net of stars. Embedded in the rock, they rose in progression until disappearing with the mountain peak above the clouds. 

His rage ebbing with the flow of blood running down his thigh, Kylo passively took in the sight as he plodded onward. To say the stronghold was impressive fell too short of the truth. It was unmatched in the whole of the galaxy, and he confessed that his master had been wise to have it constructed concurrent to Starkiller Base.

This was the path Kylo had chosen—just a taste of the grandeur. They had accomplished so much in just six short months of eternity. Worlds had been subjugated, traitors had been exposed and destroyed. A new utopian order was sweeping the galaxy. Their vision was becoming reality, and he was at the forefront of the charge. 

And he had lost sight of its glory. Why could he find no satisfaction in it? Why did every victory—even the one lying in pieces behind him—hollow him more than the last?

Kylo stepped back into the darkness of the base and listened to the doors again seal him from the death and the dust. Ahead, the empty corridor leading to the lift tube seemed longer than when he’d come. But this was no matter. Despite the small scratch, he felt stronger than ever. Just as he had hoped, the battle had invigorated and recharged him, jarring the darkness that he needed….

The clop of his heavy footsteps on the polished steel suddenly dwindled. His stride lagged against his will. Only now did he realize he had been shaking for some time. The whole of his body quaked against his will, the motion downplayed by the dull vertical lights lining the corridor’s narrow walls. 

Though Kylo felt more than physically capable, his muscular legs seemed to dissolve beneath him, aqueous and rebellious against his most basic motor skills. Moreover, they refused to carry him another step. He found himself sinking to both knees as though he were back in the sand. His fingers trembled over his rust-colored knees. At the same time, his broad back hunched as if his helmet had grown too heavy to hold up.

Like this, Kylo stayed in the vast hallway, a limp ghost lost amid the junction shadows. And when he finally said the word, it quaked with him.

“Rey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Reylo lovers! I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter to you. Two weeks of pretty much around-the-clock physical labor really robbed me of valuable time. I'll also be perfectly honest and tell you that I'm not that great at writing action scenes, so this one was a bit of a challenge for me (on top of the time constraints). I hope the chapter made sense and wasn't too long-winded for an act where things are supposed to be intense and fast-paced.
> 
> I'm not crazy about the title of this chapter, but I wanted to make a definite D.H. Lawrence reference, as the poem somewhat inspired the theme of this chapter for me (and, of course, lends itself to a double-reference: the gundark). As we've discovered, Kylo is dealing with his separation from Rey far differently. From the start, I knew their personalities, insecurities, and influences meant their parting would affect them in ways that were very much a contrast. While Rey chooses to concentrate on self-betterment and altogether avoid thoughts of Kylo and facing her love for him, Kylo has done almost the exact opposite. His feelings for Rey have consumed him. He's completely inundated himself with guilt and the pain of his loss, to the point where he's grown totally numb to everything around him. And when he thinks he's found a temporary solution, the whole reckless, sadomasochistic experience only scars and empties him more. I'm sure we've all felt that way and been to that kind of dark, heartbroken place at least once in our lives (even if we didn't fight superbeasts from Vanqor).
> 
> I hope you'll stick around for the next chapter as we go back to Rey and Luke on Ushruu. As Rey is going to find, avoidance is not sustainable, especially when there's no escaping a Force-bound connection. A chain reaction can be set off at any moment; all it takes is someone to cross the line first. Will Rey's curiosity be the catalyst?
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I was super excited to see how many made the jump from _Forces Intertwined: Part 1_ to here. And thank you for all the wonderful comments on the first chapter! Seeing so many familiar names really made me feel the Reylo family love. <3
> 
> All of you, take care and be safe out there! <3
> 
> Music while writing: Daniel Deluxe - "Star Eater"  
> Tumblr: Reylo Inspiration


	3. Painful Reminders

3

Rey yelped as her back struck the stony cliff. The tidal wave of nausea that drenched her senses would have drowned her breath if an invisible knife had not stolen it first.

Gasping hoarsely, she rolled onto her side and gritted her teeth through her shock. Meanwhile, the last of the boulders that had toppled with her grated into silence as it disappeared over the cliffside. If Rey had not been so debilitated, she would have heard the splash as it broke the seafoam far below. As it was, the pain was deafening, even to the ocean’s roar.

Although she had been meditating when the spasm struck, Rey now grappled with concentrating as Luke had shown her. She’d had no cause to apply the Control Pain technique since that rainy day when Luke had taught it to her. Although she still bore the small cut he had inflicted on her palm in demonstration, her memory of the unused method was slow to resurface.

Added to her struggle was that Rey had no idea what had happened. Only seconds earlier, she had been awash in a swell of perfect calm. She had found that solemn void easily, offering up every emotion to its altar until it absolved and infiltrated her soul with sheer serenity. What she had once envisioned as a spider’s web of energetic silk had become increasingly diffused the stronger and more harmonious she had grown throughout the passing months. Now, the nebulous shape of her spirit dwelled at the bright center of a diffused radiance, both literally and figuratively—a starkly luminous network that lacked definition but still connected her to every precious atom of the universe.

Rey had grown to call it the Realm of Light.

As it was wont to do, the Force had channeled through her with perfect impunity. Hands resting on her folded legs, she had extended herself to the energies that had since become old friends: the nodding cliff-grass, the moss-crusted stones, the swooping sea birds, the stags roaming the woods, the fish patrolling the surf. As she reached, Rey had levitated her detached body high above the rugged cliff. The heavy cobbles she lifted in conjunction revolved gently around her as though she were the static hub of a spinning wheel.

How long she had hovered like this, she was unsure. She was never sure. Time was of no consequence when the meditation was profound and the breeze soothing. Luke had been so right: Ushruu had proven to be the ideal setting for mastering her tranquility. The static drone of the sea undulated behind her limp eyelids. The afternoon sun on her face disclosed all the warmth she felt from the light within. Everywhere her peaceful touch fell teemed with life. Her freed consciousness perceived the presence of the Force in every fiber, every molecule….

Then, the pain had ripped through her as surely as it had ripped her from the light’s caress.

But now, the agony began to subside. Rey sucked the salty air into her lungs through pursed lips, each inhale slower and more methodical than the last. With every breath, her concentration collected and pushed the pain from the membrane of her energy as though expelling the stinger of some insect. The fleeting flesh through which the Force flowed complied to her mind obediently.

Rey blinked against the bedrock. One outstretched hand released a fistful of chalk grass she did not remember ripping. Carefully, she twisted toward the moss and pushed herself up until she sat tall on her bruising bottom. Before her eyes, the center cut of their cove was dimming with the approaching evening, the shadows plummeting beneath verdure tinged with twilight. Rey scanned it absentmindedly as she rubbed at the ache still radiating numbly down the left side of her back.

What had just happened to her? Had she strained something earlier when she’d chopped the wood? Perhaps she had overexerted herself while carrying the drinking water from the falls. These were all logical conclusions, and yet Rey was certain that she felt totally fine, too good for such an intense attack. And it had felt like an attack, not a pulled muscle or distressed organ. This type of pain was something she had felt before, not long ago even—the unmistakable sensation of violence. But how?

_No…._

Another stab—the most brutal of all—pierced her as she pictured boundless eyes of polished onyx.

Rey’s mouth gaped as she winced at the citrus sun over the timberline. So much time had passed that she had not recognized that feeling. Help her, she had nearly forgotten it entirely.

It meant _he_ had felt it. It meant _he_ was suffering.

Rey was on her feet faster than the act could register. Dodging the boulders that had rolled to a stop down the point, she darted for the small field that led to the camp. But when she reached the path through the tall grass, her steps failed almost as quickly as they had started.

 _What am I doing?_ Wide-eyed, Rey spun in a half-circle as if looking for answers in the sunbeams streaming through the canopy. Her pulse thudded with the panic in her throat. Without thinking, she grabbed there and then moved higher to hide her clenched mouth behind frantic fingertips. 

Where was she going? No, she had to be sensible! She had to think through this. 

Rey could not possibly explain such a thing to Luke. She recalled suddenly the only time Luke had asked about all that had happened aboard the _Finalizer_. The hurt had been so fresh then, the hole in her soul so wide. In few words, she had refused to talk about it, and a torrent of hot tears had earned Luke’s refrain from such questions. These many months later, the bond, the First Order—anything having to do with _him_ —had remained her own dark secret. After all, what would Luke think knowing that his Padawan was forever connected to the enemy of all the light stood for? The very nephew who had betrayed him and destroyed the future of the Jedi. Knowing that the Force had long ago sabotaged Rey’s ability to become a true Knight, Luke would surely abandon her as untrainable. A lost cause. 

No, telling Luke about her affliction would sprout a seed of doubt Rey could not bear to plant. Thinking of the questions it might raise, the shameful details she might have to disclose, and how dredging up the anguish of their past would eviscerate her…it was all more than she could stand.

At the same time, Rey knew she couldn’t very well hop into the X-wing and disappear without a word, to Morcanth of all places—the very den of the lion! And even then, she only _assumed he_ was still on Morcanth.

_Right where he belongs, with Snoke and all the other lying vermin of the First Order._

All this time later, why did she even care? So much of her very being _despised_ him, admittedly more than a Jedi should resent anything or anyone. Every time Rey was able to swallow the sorrow that choked her, the bitter aftertaste of her loathing inevitably followed. Without fail, it sabotaged her inner peace, to the point where avoiding the mere thought of him was always the best option.

Perhaps more than despising him, however, Rey hated the way the slightest thought of him made her feel. The immortal voice she had heeded aboard the _Finalizer_ , the one within that had whispered through their bond and cried out from her heart: This remained her maudlin, gullible nature. Rey was _so naturally inclined_ to forgive him that it scared her. 

That weakness was frightening even now. Why, after every callous thing he had done to her, was her first impulse to rush to save him? What did it matter to her if he was hurt? He had caused every ounce of the misery that had plagued her whole life. What did she care if he was dead? Wouldn’t that be for the best really? Wouldn’t it be better if she could be free of him at last?

Stumbling into the plumage outside the grassy trail, Rey’s mouth twisted into scowl beneath one palm. Those thoughts were too dark, too far from the path she had chosen. They hurt her as surely as he had. They betrayed the unruly sentiment lodged like a splinter in her core. She now felt ashamed to even think such a terrible thing. Luke would be ashamed if he knew. Luke….

Shifting again, Rey removed her hand from her mouth and used it to shield her eyes from the last rays of the day. She peered at Luke’s hut among the camp. She saw no smoke from the flue, nor did she see the contrast of his beige robes around the campfire. Perhaps he was still eating the fish she had prepared. Maybe he had gone to his own woodland sanctuary to meditate. All would be well as long as he had not seen what just happened.

“You’ve stopped early today.”

Rey spun back seaward to find Luke like a statue a few feet behind her. He squinted at her above the bulk of his graying beard. Even as it faded, the daylight that fell upon him was renewing in its brilliance. The silver streaks of time that had all but overtaken his brown hair were suddenly a warm gold. The cracks marring his aged face were now softer despite his obvious curiosity. 

Caught off guard, Rey nodded and struggled to hush her racing blood. “Yes, Master Luke. It went very well again, so I thought I might turn in early tonight. That is, of course, unless you need me to do anything else.”

Ever somber, Luke studied her in that omniscient way Rey had come to respect, though her paranoia now read it as something more resembling suspicion. His glance lowered to the trodden grass where she had been turning in manic circles. 

“Where are the rest of the stones?” 

Though the question lacked any accusation, Rey found herself grasping for any excuse that made sense.

“Well, you see, I thought I would try setting them down—um, balancing them—on the edge of the cliff. Just a little added challenge, you know. Silly, really, because I guess I—ah!”

Somewhere far away, muscle and tissue split down the middle. 

Hissing, Rey doubled over and clutched at the invisible wound in her left shoulder. The red-hot fatigue she had staved off earlier now flared with a vengeance. 

_Not now!_

“Kylah?”

“Please excuse me, Master Luke,” Rey wheezed. Not bothering to look back at what she was sure was concern ( _Oh, how am I going to explain this?_ ), she turned and scurried as fast as she could toward the camp. There were simply no other options now. Lying to Luke hurt her deeply, undermining every effort to be better than she was before. And she had already proven she was in no condition to lie believably.

His gravelly voice called after her. “Are you all right?”

With her good arm, Rey gave a wave back just as her legs cleared the path. She hoped the gesture would be enough to keep him at bay. 

The tree line ahead had already claimed the promontory for nightfall. Behind the headland, the rough skin of countless trunks climbed like a barricade fending off the day. Each ancient broadleaf and pine was a giant nearly as tall as the bluff, the robust leaves forming a lush crown of foliage that stretched the twilight hours into infinity. 

Controlling the pain as she stumbled, Rey descended the slope until she reached the juniper-green meadow of their camp. Luckily, her hut was the closest structure in the clearing. Its rounded roof jutted before her, tan and inconspicuous among the speckled trunks of two quaking aspens. 

Though the short distance seemed to stretch on and on, Rey soon burst through the slatted door and sealed herself in the dim inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may seem like it took forever for this small chapter to get published, but you all would be proud of me! Last night I noticed the page count of the chapter had somehow reached 15, so I decided it would be best to break it into two to avoid inundating everyone. Looking back at _Part 1_ , I would have definitely broken a few of the chapters up to not be so long, so I'm trying to be more mindful for you guys this time around.
> 
> The good news is, 90 percent of the next chapter is already written, so I should have it up for you on Sunday. I'm getting near some parts that I'm terribly excited about, so even though I haven't had a lot of time to work on this story during the workday, the content is really flowing at night. I'm sure you're with me in not being able to wait for some Kylo/Rey interaction. Our Force-bound babies are better together, even if they're a little salty and hurt at the moment. I can't wait for it all to unfold!
> 
> I'd also like to take a moment to say thank you for all your encouragement and great comments! It's also really nice to see all the people letting me know that they've made it here from _Part 1_. Thank you for giving me such great feedback and supporting this story! It may be a little slow-going, but I hope you'll stick with me till the end on this. I adore each and every member of my Reylo family!
> 
> Hope you all are doing well and staying safe and healthy! Cheers, everyone!
> 
> Music while writing: The Midnight - "Days of Thunder"  
> Tumblr: Reylo Inspiration


	4. The Night Visitor

4

Rey sank onto the wool of her cot. Her caution was instinctual—the careful movements of someone wary of aggravating an injury. But her logic told her the stab of another phantom blade would come regardless of what she did or did not do. For lack of options, she slid against the wall and focused on her breathing. Gradually, the cool terra cotta eased Rey’s throbbing back. When she felt ready to resume her lotus position, she was surprised at how quickly she was able to subdue the phantom pangs ringing through her flesh.

How long Rey sat then, she was unsure. Relieved, she had opened her relaxed eyes and looked absently about her dwelling. A spot on the wall just left of the entryway caught her eye. A tiny fleck of something dark had caught in the clay that she and Luke had so painstakingly smoothed and shaped that second week on Ushruu. Though the spot was small, Rey’s eyes locked onto it like an enemy fighter on the radar. The spot formed a flipped T, something resembling a mathematical figure or…the shape of a very particular sword.

As though that speck where the break in a dam, Rey’s thoughts cascaded and rushed beyond it. Even when the last of the light slipped out her window and the spot had long since faded beneath the night, she stared into the gloom where it had been.

Rey wanted to say _his_ name aloud. She wanted to hear that hurtful sound—the word she heard every time Luke called her birth name.

But Rey found the prospect so very dangerous. She feared it, as if he were the monster in a fairytale and saying his name would make him real. If nothing else, the last six months had taught her that once she opened the lid to such thoughts, closing it again would be near impossible.

She had not uttered his name aloud since that terrible day, that nightmare morning when she had inflicted the same injury that now quelled above her breast.

Blind in the dark, Rey raised her right hand. Her fingers rested gently on the memory engraved in her skin. The scar from their final battle remained, a deep, ragged gully of cauterized tissue running the full length of her upper left arm.

She could have healed it. Of course she could have. Even after what had happened on Ilum, she had retained that power. Instead, Rey had decided to let nature take its course. To erase what had happened—the memory of what she had nearly become—was a luxury she would never afford herself. The reminder was crucial: The darkness she possessed would forever try to claim her. Her abilities, her propensity for terrible power—they were too great. Never again could she allow herself to be so easily seduced away from the light by anything. Or anyone.

But that was unfair. He had not intended to seduce her, not really. Rey had conceded that fact long ago.

The truth was that, from the moment he had chosen to show himself to her, Rey had been draw to him like the ocean to the moon. In that single revelation, the awakening in her core had been intrinsic, biological—a cause that gave voice to her mute flesh, as though she had never truly been alive until that moment. Light recognized dark, fragment recognized whole, flaw recognized perfection. Even before he had touched her and changed both their lives forever, the very essence of her being had demanded him as simply as it demanded oxygen. So immeasurable was that awareness—that latent _need_ —that day that Rey now remembered it much more poignantly than the rebirth of her Force abilities.

She had revisited that sacred scene in the interrogation room so often since. It had never been far from her mind as his apprentice, not when she had learned to recognize the frailty in his tortured gaze. And, oh, the revelation it had been to know he felt the same despite his learned nature. To hear…to _feel_ the depths of his devotion…. The understanding they had shared had been imperfect, their intimacy light-years from carefree. But his professions—the feelings he requited—had meant everything.

Ilum had erased that mirage so abruptly. Just when Rey had begun to see the soft shape of their future, the whole of the universe had crashed down upon her. The pure sense of destiny she had felt that fateful day on Starkiller Base had ebbed in time beneath suspicion and doubt. Had he done something—even the slightest, most minor thing—to influence her? Did he know what would happen when he touched her and did it anyway to turn her to the dark side? Was the vulnerability he showed her that day—any of those days—as genuine as it seemed? Perhaps worst of all: Did she feel so impossibly drawn to him because her mind recognized him from years past? After all, if Rey was to believe _anything_ he had confessed that night in the snowdrifts, he had known who she was as soon as he had torn into her mind looking for the map. 

Yes, he had known. He had known and he had said…nothing.

Rey pressed her front teeth into the cushion of her lip, trying to curb her inclination toward bitterness. 

He had deceived her _unforgivably_. Every word, every disclosure…every kiss had been a manipulation. Day after day, week after week of feigning compassion and faking ignorance. And she had been so dreadfully naive to believe his lies, so overconfident. She had acted so certain that she knew better than anyone, even him. But, in the end, she had been a fool to follow her instincts and place such blind faith in the exceptionalism of their union. The mere thought of his pathology—betraying her trust at every opportunity—turned her stomach with hideous stirrings. Help her, how would she ever become a Jedi when she still could not rid herself of such vitriol?

Shaking her head, Rey launched herself from the bed and fumbled over the surface of the table until she found her candle. Almost manically, she struck the attached flint until the wick was alight and the room glowed a soft orange.

Yes, the fabled monster of her fairytale had been real, even if nothing else about him had been.

Yet, exploited or not…Rey knew in the depths of her soul that her love for him had been real too. He had left her with that and that alone: the purest consolation she could divine from her heartbreak. All that she was and ever would be had truly loved someone. 

Why was this solace not enough to help her move on? She had cared for him so completely that her love was nearly impossible to reconcile in the wake of his deceit. Even now, so far removed from the bliss she had found with him, why could she not escape the pain he had caused her?

 _Pain. His pain._ His pain had traversed nebulae and barricade to find her.

To say she had barred him from her mind since Ilum did no justice to her talents. Rey had become a virtuoso of mental defense, her skills far surpassing the basic techniques he had taught her during their training. She had grown confident that he would never again be able to force his way into her mind. She even went so far as to doubt Snoke could do it again. 

This began as pure necessity, especially during those first few debilitating months, when she had wandered in perpetual darkness day in and day out. She had not wished Luke, well-meaning or not, to see the extent of her suffering. Even more harrowing, the possibility of _him_ reaching out with more excuses, apologies, pleas, or worse had been unbearable. The bruises were too fresh, the anguish too gutting. She had not trusted her emotions or what she was liable to do in the hole he had left.

Eventually, the steel walls in her mind became as second-nature as breathing. The more adept she became at keeping them up, the more she forgot they were there. And time passed. Her sorrow turned to anger, creating a venom so toxic that it best to avoid thinking of him altogether. In her soul, she knew quite simply she would never again fall so low, never again lose herself as she had the night they’d left the Crystal Caves. It was a truth she accepted as plainly as the falling rain. Never again would she give the dark side control. 

The root of her flame flickered blue below her gaze. She wondered, had he tried to contact her in all that time? Had he tried today? She had no reason to care. Kriff it all, she did _not_ care. She owed him nothing, not even sympathy. Beyond her own list of violations, he had sealed his own fate the minute he had committed himself to the dark path.

But…what if he had? What if he had tried to reach out to her today? What if he had tried knowing it would be the last time?

Rey’s throat tightened. Her empty guts sank against her will. Frustrated, she chucked the flint at the table and plopped back onto her cot. Her forehead grew hotter and damper as her thoughts raced.

Would she be able to _feel_ if he were dying? Would she know if he were _dead_? The second question seemed almost rhetorical, for she simply _understood_ in the ether of her spirit that, no matter how much she recovered from him, a new abyss would swallow her whole the very instant he was gone. They were so singularly bound despite being so vastly divided. For whatever blessing or curse, the Force ensured that his duplicity could never touch the purity of their connection.

Her hands trembled over her white trousers. Outside, the shaking trees crescendoed over the ocean’s roar. 

_I have to know. I have to._

Rey recalled now that time after the interrogation when she had awoken from one nightmare to the next. Alone and strapped in that damnable rig, she had left him in a dream only to seek him out in the real world. The explosion of the bond, the exchange of memories, the near touch of his lips—one jarring event after another had exhausted her mere hours before. Escape had taken precedence then. In truth, she had dreaded facing him after what had passed between them. In her recklessness, she had followed her intuition and their new electric current to his mind, first finding him on the base and then spying on his thoughts. She had even seen with his intense eyes, though she would have given anything to take that sight back ( _Oh, Han, how I betrayed you in all of this_ ). Her anguish at witnessing Han Solo’s murder had alerted his son to her presence in his mind. He had come for her then, bleeding but still bloodthirsty in the wake of his dreadful act.

But he never would have known she was there if she had not given herself away. She could have tread undetected, Rey was sure of it. Moreover, she had been nowhere near as powerful or practiced back then. She had only that day been reborn in the ways of the Force, and, despite that, her amateur navigation of their bond had been enough to access his unguarded mind. 

Surely, she could do it again.

The epiphany froze the air in Rey’s lungs. During those first few months with Luke, not a single day had passed that she had not wanted to call to _him_ from across the galaxy. So many times, she had teetered on the brink of abandoning her dignity and begging forgiveness for both their crimes. Dying just a little more in isolation each night, suddenly more alone than she had ever felt growing up in the sand…. The agony of those nights…the unbearable loneliness….

_Don’t think of that. It’s passed now. You were weak, but you’re stronger now. You made it out the other side._

Yes, she had exhausted herself with thoughts of reaching out to him. But never once had Rey considered reaching out _through_ him.

Bounding again from the bed, Rey stalked to her door until her outstretched fingers rested upon the oak. As stealthily as possible, she pressed her nose into the dip between two slats and smelled the raw timber. 

Through the crack, Rey saw the campfire had been abandoned for the night. It smoldered, straggling blue flames still flickering from neon logs. Directly beyond it, candlelight similar to her own streamed through cracks in the door of Luke’s hut. At this time of night, he would be studying the sacred Jedi texts—that is, if he had not fallen asleep while reading. Rey had recently become a skilled candle-maker for that very reason.

_I’m sorry, Master Luke. I have to know. Once I know, that’s it. If I’m wrong…if he’s…dead, it won’t work. He won’t be there, and I’ll know once and for all. If he’s alive…nothing more, ever again. I promise._

Palms splayed over the boards as if she might heal them, Rey drooped her clammy forehead against one plank and closed her eyes.

“Kylo.”

To hear herself say his name at last sparked a chain reaction in Rey’s senses. It sent a shockwave through her veins, a jolt charged with every emotion he had ever made her feel. In that instant, she swore she could almost smell his skin, nearly taste it against her lips. The petite hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. Her banished womanhood stirred in exile.

_Such a small thing. A single drop in the ocean._

His name alone disarmed her so completely. She would have to be careful if she was to do this thing. No matter what happened, she could not lose her way in his mind.

Like a sleepwalker, Rey slinked back to her cot a final time. Heart racing, she settled back where the wool was already rumpled. Her hands fell stiffly over her bent knees as she straightened her fluttering spine. She took a final steadying breath into lungs that suddenly felt like iron. Swallowing nothing, Rey shut her eyes and plunged back into the same darkness that had echoed his name.

The barricade in her mind was merely one of myriad amorphous energies. This, Rey had understood from the beginning—more specifically, from the moment she had first reversed Kylo’s probe and plunged headfirst into the rocky depths of his soul. But the habit that began with that counterattack had stuck, and she had always found it easier to navigate the mind by visualizing it in more terrene terms. 

Hers was always a grand vista. At times, it was the vision of her youth, namely, her private valley on the outskirts of the Graveyard of Ships. This was the eternal azure of either morning or evening—the only instances growing up that she had ever been allowed free time. 

Other times, Rey envisioned the climbing emerald isle that had captured the imagination of her past. So often she had pictured the island before it had manifested itself as Ahch-To and painted opaque prophecies into the panorama of her dreams.

This time, however, the landscape of her mind was changed, though not without a hint of irony. Since Ilum, Rey had done her best not to think of the Takodana wood where they had rediscovered one another—not an easy task given the base of Luke’s camp and the pine-laced wind that always carried a hint of Kylo’s hair. She had done her utmost to bury the sight six feet beneath other, more favorable memories. It was strangely fitting for that poignant place to again materialize here and now, when she chose to step into her own psyche.

Her efforts to forget had proven useless. Rey knew by heart every feathery fern, fallen timber, and mossy limb. In particular, she recognized the rocky plunge of the ravine where the monster had come for her. Looking here, she remembered the cushion of the lichen under her fingertips and the clefted peaks of the boulders from which he’d appeared. Here, in this hallowed place, each and every detail was a remembrance fixed in the natural earth of her subconscious…everything but the steel wall beyond. 

It stood steep and unnatural at the far end of the chasm where he’d chased her. Like the hidden fortress of some advanced civilization, its modern alloy contradicted every olive ash and sticky fir. The wall reached high into the canopy and the heavens beyond. Shadows deepened its cobalt finish, blocking the streaming sunshine, the chirping of wildlife, and the vast lake Rey knew lay behind it. 

Rey also recognized _where_ it stood. It was a memorial to his crime, erected like a monument overtop the place where he had first violated her thoughts. The moment when he had first overpowered her had imprinted itself in her brain, not because of her terror in that helpless scene, but because it was the first time she’d felt—if only for one instant of consciousness—the living stone of his arms as he caught and cradled her to him. How desperate her mind obviously was, to forget that spot and imagine what could have been if she had not run from Maz’s castle. As surely as it kept him out, the barrier protected a fortress of placid possibilities. Her path might have been so less painful had they never found each other again that day.

Never could Rey have imagined that she would breach the gate she had worked so hard to build. But it was time. She had to reopen herself to that medium through universe, just this once. She _had_ to be certain.

As simply as flipping off a switch, a power indicator, a saber activator…Rey brought the barricade crashing down. As she did—as the steel slabs slammed to the forest floor with a deafening thud and the looming shadow in her subconscious disappeared at last—she again beheld that familiar trail. In the Realm of Light, where a trillion diodes pulsed with dazzling vitality, Rey had eventually grown to ignore that one defective channel. That single broken link had eventually faded into the background of an otherwise flawless system, obscured by her harmony with the Force.

Yet here it remained, still drawn away from their meeting place and the boundaries of her mind. And, despite the months of neglect, it was healthy—perhaps even more potent than ever. Like a live wire, it buzzed with a formidable power Rey had tried her best to forget. But her body remembered that energy, soaking up the revived flow it had thirsted for from the moment Rey had shut it off.

The Force bond hummed with renewed fervor, awakening every sleeping cell in her body. Rey detected that her mouth sighed, her chest shuddered, her hands trembled—that she felt truly awake for the first moment since they had parted.

 _Quickly._ Rey’s fear shook her unshakable concentration. To linger here was too tempting, too natural. Worse yet, the longer she energized the flow of such commanding power, the greater the chances he might feel it as well. The barrier had to come back up and fast. _Look and then leave. Look and then lock it back out._

Gathering her focus, Rey followed that eternal current past the thicket and the coppice and the fallen steel. 

But this was not nearly far enough. She had to go beyond the flesh and its thudding pulse, the aqua curls and their lunar guide, the turquoise ozone and its hidden sun. And what might have been an impossible task for even the most mastered Jedi presented little difficulty for Rey’s prowess here and now, not necessarily because she was any stronger or more learned, but because the extraordinary nature of the bond lighted her way like an interstellar beacon. In her mind’s eye, their shared lifeforce formed a stardust path through the Cosmic Force—and the cosmos itself—like the remains of a violent supernova. Here, every precious particle was one of countless steppingstones between two poles, as if their divided spirits were the very bookends of the Force itself. This strength formed a timeless tie, simultaneously vast and intimate. And that celestial course was as adamant as it was animate: It begged her to follow.

Rey surrendered to the light of that all-powerful energy as it plucked her from her world. Though the bridge between their minds existed beyond time itself, the momentum of her concentration now seemed to travel at light speed. Her reach carried away from Ushruu and the realm of Wild Space at its back. It passed Lah’mu, Mygeeto, and the Outer Rim itself, clipping the luminous Deep Core—the straightest path to the other end of the galaxy. And although she could not literally see these planets or regions, she visualized them as she did the bond, recognizing their unique energies as she passed them by.

Extraordinarily, she rediscovered the abyss of the Unknown Regions. But Rakata Prime, Zonama Sekot, and even the sunburnt sands of her abandoned Jakku were not far enough. Only when she sensed the passage of Lwhekk and the bond surging throughout her spirit did Rey know she was close.

Her assumptions had been correct. Rey immediately recognized Morcanth’s dismal dynamism. Her mind compensated by painting a replica of old blood—a cruel planet for a cruel cause. What she did not except to find were hundreds of thousands surrounding the planet, their minor verves forming a kinetic cloud about the hive. So many souls…a starship fleet of alarming proportions. And at the center of it, at last, the one she sought, down, farther down, beneath the Super Star Destroyers and the smog, on the surface, shielded by layer upon layer of steel—the most coldest but most brilliant fire in the ebon galaxy….

 _Wait._ His energy, the barren planet—everything her lifeforce had felt—was fading back into the universe. _What’s happening?_

A superior power shoved with all its might. Rey scrambled as her concentration was hurled backward. Her reach ricocheted faster than a shooting star, light-years faster than it had taken her to find him. But the push was not his. It was the bond—the Force itself. There was no mistaking its overwhelming magnitude as it sent her energy flying back along the starlight path, rebuffing her as if it had sensed her tricky intentions. 

Rey’s focus slammed roughly back into her body. Her skin awoke, moist with the effort and the humidity. The cot resonated harder than she remembered under her legs. Her numb fingers tingled back to life, digging into the fabric over her knees, grasping for something tangible, something present.

But the here and now had transformed. The symphony of her world—the strings of the crickets, the percussion of the waves, the woodwind of the sea breeze—every tone in the natural soundtrack of her meditation had disappeared entirely. She sensed she was trapped in a void withheld from space and time. And in place of those normal impressions was something far stronger and more provocative…a sensation she knew by heart.

Rey held her breath. She opened her eyes.

From the far side of the hut, Kylo Ren stared back at her in confusion. 

Rey’s mouth fell open.

_Force help me…._

It was impossible. He could not be real. His presence defied every principle of the Force in which Rey trusted. 

Yet, he was there, actually _there_ , sitting in front of her! And the sight of his face—battered and gaunt and weary but still that singular beauty, still unchanged in every way that had emblazoned her memory—turned Rey’s spine to lead. Though it resounded heavily around her, her breath came sharp and shallow as her chest tightened. Her body seized as though he might not notice her if she stayed perfectly still. 

But he did see her. He gawked openly, raising himself inch by inch from an incongruous chair. As if he had thought her a dream at first, his glassy eyes now widened with disbelief beneath his rising brows. His full lips parted in astonishment. Her ears filled with his pulse as it thundered in time with her own primal beat.

The mere sight of him sent Rey’s body and soul reeling. Even as she returned his gaze in thick silence, all the disloyal emotions she had suppressed during their separation erupted into her elated center and clamored for relief. The innate desire to run to him and throw her arms up around his neck and cover his confused mouth with her own was so compelling that Rey practically tasted the blood caking his lower lip. She wanted to bury her face against his neck and wet his hair with a lifetime of tears. The urge to cry out to the stars that she forgave him everything—that she belonged to him still and always would—crushed and ground her logic into the dust.

In Rey’s quiet chaos, Kylo took two frantic steps toward her before stopping. The impulse seemed beyond his control. His naked fingers balled into fists at his sides. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing above his lack of shirt. The candlelight warmed the contours of his firm, pale skin. His smooth, broad chest—far broader than Rey remembered—rose and fell beneath an invisible weight. He shook as if with cold, his disheveled hair betraying the tremors he tried to hide.

He was holding back. The bond vibrated with his conflict. He wanted to do something, most desperately, but his mind raged against the instinct to act upon it.

As cautiously as prey evading a hunter, Rey unfolded her knees and rose on legs of crumbling sand. No matter how close she came, his labored breathing was a zephyr in their shared vacuum. Never once did she break from his focus, not even when her periphery spotted the smears of gore over the muscles of his left side. Even in his awe, he held her gaze with the same desperate intensity she saw every night when she closed her eyes.

When the tabletop was all that separated them, Rey stopped and allowed the moment to unfold into infinity. Close enough to touch him, all but her will withered in incompletion. Her caution forbade her even one more step. Meanwhile, her mind buckled under the weight of a million conflicting emotions, each one all the more clouded by his electric proximity, his magnetic pull, his glistening skin, and his deep-set eyes—eyes now imploring from the dark circles surrounding them. These were not the eyes of the Kylo Ren that Rey so often recalled in the stronghold of her memory. Rather, they were as she had left him in the snow: devoid of their usual severity. Defenseless…aching.

 _Ben Solo eyes._ Ben Solo’s eyes seeking her permission. Asking for her mercy. Kylo begging forgiveness for what he had done to her. Kylo pleading for her to save him.

 _Help me, I want to,_ Rey bargained with no one. _Believe me, I do, more than anything. I feel it too, but…I just…. I…. Too fast…. All happening too fast. I can’t just…. No matter how I feel, you can’t expect me to just…. I can’t…._

Rey snatched back the hand she hadn’t even realized she’d lifted toward her scar on his cheek. No, she could not touch him. If he were really there—if she could indeed feel that perfect spark—there would be no coming back.

Was she _insane_? Had she already forgotten every promise, every declaration? Did all her progress mean _nothing_ to her? Even if this were a mirage, merely a cruel trick played by her willful mind, she had _vowed_ to never expose herself to the dark ever again. And she _knew_! She knew the dark side would forever follow their passion. It would feast on their feelings for each other, just as it did when it had almost destroyed her. The idea was ludicrous.

_The grey is impossible. You know this is true! The Jedi knew it was true. Don’t let it destroy you again! You know where the grey leads. Deceit, disharmony, disaster. Remember what Luke said: Your feelings are never beyond your control. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no love._

_Remember what he did to you._

Despite how her soul careened and the bond protested, Rey shrank back from the quivering mouth waiting hopefully at the height of her brow. Her gaze deflected to the wall, secretly dying but desperate to avoid the agony, sadness, or even anger that might overshadow his humility. To see that would certainly break her in two, just as it would surely close the distance into his warm arms.

Suddenly, he was gone—disappeared from the corner of Rey’s vision, as if her refrain had cued the bond to take him back. If her eyes had deceived her before, they ceased to now. Not a trace remained of him or the medical chair that had appeared with him.

The Force confirmed this, for though Rey still felt his existence tug weakly at the strings of her power, the pressure that had threatened to sweep her off her feet had subsided with the countless parsecs that again divided them.

Despite the warmth of her hut, Rey’s body began to shiver uncontrollably. Collapsing to her knees in her solitude, she wrapped arms—emptier than ever—around the reopened pit in the center of her chest. An animal wail of anguish rose in her throat.

The sobs Rey unleashed then were the most hopeless she had ever known. And they did not stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Rey. I really felt terrible for her in this one. I feel like she's grown so strong and so much more capable since _F.I. Pt. 1_ , so much so that she's able to put herself and her well-being before the thing she wants most (and how steel-willed you would have to be to say no to Kylo shirtless, bloody, and begging). She's also able to navigate her feelings of resentment and still care for the well-being of someone who's hurt her deeply (even if it brings about some unexpected consequences). She's the good in all of us. Selfishly, though, I'm happy to say that now that Rey's opened the floodgates, we'll be seeing renewed interaction between Rey and Kylo. This was planned since the get-go, even before _TLJ_ came out, but I definitely want to thank Rian Johnson for the inspiration for _how_ to present these in-person Force connections in terms of the sensory. I can't wait to take those ideas to the next level!
> 
> Sorry this chapter is being posted a couple days later than promised. I ended up doing multiple more revisions to the reunion scene than I'd anticipated. I just wanted it to be perfect and poignant, and all the build-up to it in my mind made it impossible to be satisfied. I hope you enjoyed it though! 
> 
> On a bumming note, I have to start editing a friend's book for him, so I won't be able to start writing the next chapter for at least a week, which makes me sad (I'm itching to address the fallout of the big moment for both Rey and Kylo). I hope to read your comments and feedback in the meantime to keep my inspiration flowing! Reylo family is family--you all are fantastic!
> 
> Thank you, as always, for reading!
> 
> Music while writing: John Powell - "This Rediculous Chin"  
> Tumblr: Reylo Inspiration


	5. Sandstorm

5

A new storm had come.

A coating the color of canyon clay began covering the floor-to-ceiling window. Driven from the west, it spread from left to right like a blood moon eclipse. With it, the burnt carmine that lit the room began to recede.

Kylo stared through the gathering dust. The gundark’s carcass had long since been removed from the training ground below. From such height, no trace of Kylo’s narrow victory remained. Like a forest engulfed in flames, the coming sandstorm had already cloaked the sun and everything below it in russet soot. The upturned earth of the courtyard was inconspicuous beneath a volatile sky. Even the muddy trail of Kylo’s blood leaving the gridiron had faded beneath time and nature.

In the distance, a flash the color of his lightsaber lit the sky behind a curtain taller and wider than the mountain itself. The escarpment of crimson clouds and swirling sands crept at a pace that deceived its fury.

And this storm was furious. Though he had grown used to such weather—even preferred it to the planet’s natural haze—Kylo monitored the storm’s immensity as it lunged from the wilderness beyond. One by one, the gunmetal roofs and barricade towers of each sector disappeared beneath churning dust. Even through the clouds, the rose-tinted lightning was blinding as it quickened up the mountainside. The last of their settlement would soon be dusted or altogether buried.

Situated just below the zenith of the base, Kylo’s chambers belied the storm’s violence. The sound-proof transparisteel stripped away all that was surely deafening and reduced it to pure moving image. The booming thunder and cyclonic winds existed only by virtue of flying debris and the trembling of Starfarer Mountain with each atmospheric explosion. 

Alone in this pin-drop silence, Kylo was suddenly captive to the anthropomorphic qualities of the phenomenon. To him, the storm intimated a living thing—some titan, mutely panting and raging as it devoured everything in its path; a creature of myth that would not stop until it wiped both him and the First Order from existence. 

The longer Kylo watched the pandemonium, the more the quiet disconnect muddled his senses. He felt suddenly disoriented, as if he were looking up at the world from the bottom of the Silver Sea.

There had been an instant—no more than a breath before she had appeared—when he’d heard that sea.

Kylo had vowed he would stop thinking of the previous night. Yet, once again, the scene played out in the dusty glass. 

He again recalled how the surgical droid had just barely finished cleaning, stitching, and bandaging the final inch of his back. Having completed its work, the orb had whirred away from Kylo’s seat in the superior officers’ infirmary. No sooner had it left him with the fresh sting of sutured skin than a strange sensation had overtaken him. The feeling had surged with alarming rapidity, the dissociative fog falling over his senses like a shroud.

His first instinct had been to blame his trauma. But then Kylo had heard it: the soft rustle of leaves announcing a crashing ocean, the throaty whispers of life that could not—did not—exist anywhere near him. As if it had manifested itself in that unseen surf, the Force had crashed over him like a tidal wave, flooding the elite channels of his reception as though some blockage had at last given way.

And all at once, as simply as if she had been waiting at his aid the entire time, Rey was with him, cross-legged and statuesque atop a bed of wood and wool across the room.

How quickly Kylo had doubted his own eyes. There was no denying he’d lost a fair amount of blood to his failures with the gundark. She could have easily been a hallucination, or perhaps another of the nightmares that had followed him since the night everything had crumbled. After all, Rey was _always_ vivid in those visions. In those rare times when Kylo’s exhaustion betrayed his will and dragged him into sleep, she still existed, the somnambular echo of the pupil gasping for life beneath his abuse. Sometimes, she was the lover burning white-hot with lust and humiliation beneath his carelessness. Other times, she was the broken heart shrinking under the weight of glacial snow and deceit. Still other times, she was the hopeful, pink-nosed child whose screams had cut across the dunes and severed the last of the ties that held Ben Solo in place.

Without fail, Rey was there eternally when his eyes closed. Eternally there, and always in tears. Always marked by him, her despair forever fueling his own.

But not this time. A forgotten charge had detonated beneath Kylo’s skin the instant he had realized this Rey was not the one he denied Snoke and the First Order. 

Though unmistakably Rey—undeniably _his_ Rey—she had somehow grown from the young woman he had tarnished with his affection. Behind their shock, her gemstone eyes had disclosed an unfamiliar poise he found striking. She had grown somehow wiser, by some means noticeably more mature. This impression had been embellished by the dark skin beneath her curvesome lashes, making her appear older than he knew her to be. Her sleep had obviously been as troubled as his own.

The rest of her flawless face had regained its Jakku tan, renewing the childish freckles that had faded in the shade of his tutelage. The chestnut hair that Kylo regretted not touching more had grown. Its length had been pulled back into a single ponytail rather than the three tidy buns he so often recalled. The ashen wardrobe he had once given her had been replaced with a collared tunic and trousers of white, though differently styled from the desert garments she’d worn the day he had stalked her through the saplings. 

But regardless of every change and subtle nuance, she had been just as she always was aboard the _Finalizer_ : a vibrant beacon, warm and radiant and blessedly out of place in his cold, unfeeling world.

Watching the gathering sands now, Kylo marveled at how the reality of her presence had struck him so suddenly, so deeply, like a bowcaster shot to the gut. The discrepancies were too numerous to be ignored, the memory of their single Force projection too fresh despite the months that had eclipsed it. In truth, not a day had gone by that Kylo ceased regretting the day he’d left Rey unguarded in Snoke’s library. On occasions untold, he had begun and then abandoned the walk to Hux’s sickbed to terminate the scum’s life support. Those were always the worst nights, the midnight hours when the pain of losing her had defeated him and nothing had mattered. For Kylo, time could not erase the look of terror in Rey’s eyes when the Force had bridged their locations. Her absence had only served to deepen that wound.

Like that terrible moment aboard the Star Destroyer, this new projection had come on like a spell—mild at first, but swiftly consuming. The drone of the examination room had faded with the air itself. An inescapable vacuity had taken their place, hijacking Kylo’s senses from the present and dragging them into a closed space of unfathomable energy. Despite how it teemed with the immensity of the Force, the realm was completely silent save for the two heartbeats it connected.

And, like his, her blood had raced with palpable surprise. It had thundered as he rose from his seat in the infirmary, punctuating her labored breaths and vibrating every cord of their bond.

Their bond. Like withdrawing from some dark drug, only time and total suffering had helped Kylo overcome its atrophy. But last night had seen it reborn, revived, and robust. Its familiar voice had called out to his spirit, his flesh, clamoring manically after its long denial. Once again, he needed to be as close to her as their bodies would allow, and once again, their link spoke every sentiment Kylo ached to profess.

_I don’t care if you’re not really here. I don’t care if it’s death to touch you. Please understand. You’re all that matters. There’s nothing without you. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave again. Join me. Stay with me forever. Please._

In that most innate desperation, Kylo had found himself rushing toward her. His redemption had demanded it, his very biology dying to enact a million painful fantasies of finding her at last. The instinct to fall to his knees and wrap her in his starved arms right there in the infirmary, to press his tired eyes to her heart and never let go, to erase the eternity he’d spent without her and become again the living, breathing human being she had made him—all this and more he wanted.

Luckily, he had noticed the look in her eyes, her hesitation highlighted by some unseen flame. That glimmer was famished but somehow fearful. It so thinly veiled a struggle her parted lips seemed unable to convey. 

The epiphany was enough to stop Kylo mid-step. He had been so overcome with emotion, her presence having thrown him into such chaos, that only then had he considered the projection was not her doing. The Force had already connected them once of its own free will, just as it had linked their entire lives. Rey’s surprise had been too authentic, her reservation too conscious. 

She had not anticipated the connection. Had she not _wanted_ to see him?

The Kylo Ren who had imprisoned her aboard the _Finalizer_ would have shown no such restraint at that realization. That same Kylo Ren had reappeared more than once since she had gone. Countless nights, he had abandoned all logic just to survive till the break of dawn. But the cycle proved regularly vicious and the taste always acidic. He would denounce her for leaving him and curse her name for distracting him from his true calling. Galvanized by his bitterness, he would redeclare his loyalty to the dark and castigate his weakness without mercy. Eventually, however, the high would wear off. His empathy would resurface, and he would sink ever deeper into the abyss of his grief.

But even that Kylo would have turned his rage to ardor at the mere sight of her. He would have taken what he wanted, even if all he wanted was novel absolution. He would have inundated her with his guilt and unhinged devotion until she had no choice but to accept him.

But the truth remained that he was no longer _really_ that man, just as surely as he was no longer really the Ben Solo who had bandaged her ruddy knees after every scuff and tumble. For six months, he had given a perfect imitation of that Kylo. He had acted out the leader required by Snoke, the Knights, and the Order with almost mechanical accuracy. Truthfully, he was adept at portraying that Kylo, perhaps even had some small capacity to become him completely again. However, in his solitude—in moments like the present—he no longer recognized himself or the feelings that had obliterated all his grand ambitions. 

Their short time together had changed him irreversibly. And as impossible as it had been to navigate his transmogrify without her, in that instant—standing vulnerable before her once again—that strange intuition had held him back from every impassioned plea and urgent grasp. He cared for her too much. He had already hurt her so deeply.

Reflecting on this, Kylo now wondered if he had made a mistake. Perhaps Rey had wanted just that: the same apologies and appeals that had seeped from his shattered soul that night on Ilum. Perhaps she had wanted to be sure nothing had changed for him.

_But certainly, she had known_ , he reasoned, squinting as ruby lightning exploded in silence beyond the glass. Certainly, she had seen it written across his face—tattooed on his very soul—as she’d studied him in that intimate, omniscient way that always disarmed him. She must have felt it in the Force, perceived it the way he sensed her own restraint, her own elation at his presence, her own desire….

A shredded flag of the First Order suddenly materialized, plastering itself flatly near Kylo’s slung arm. In an instant, it was ripped back off the glass and sucked into the oncoming tempest.

Since he had been on Morcanth, Kylo had consulted every available text and holocron discussing Force projection. His findings had confirmed that physical contact was altogether impossible. The art of Similfuturus was confined to the visual, the technique based in illusion. Accounts recorded prior to the Galactic Empire documented the ability of some Jedi to project their visages through the Cosmic Force. These resources had reinforced everything Luke had told Ben Solo so long ago. The takeaway remained that Force projection was practically impossible. Only the most achieved had possessed the skills to project their Living Force presence, and the strain had been infamously too taxing. By all recorded history, very few Jedi had accomplished the feat, and many who had tried had died from the effort.

Whether Rey had known any of this was irrelevant. What mattered most to Kylo was that she had _wanted_ to touch him. He was certain of it. Though he could never have broken from her gaze, he had seen her slender frame shiver in his periphery as she’d neared him. The bond between them had tensed like a loaded spring, but Rey had fought the release of that tension. It seemed the closer she had come, the harder it became to allow herself another inch, and the longer he had watched her struggle, the more torturous it had been not to pull her the rest of the way to his ravenous lips.

But Kylo knew now as surely as he knew then that it had to be her. She had to be the one to do it. After Ilum and the countless ways he’d wronged her, the decision had to be her own.

He recalled now that single moment when her lithe fingers had drifted upward and his heart had threatened to burst from its wretched cage. The surprise in her eyes had softened, and—oh, he knew the language of her emotions so well—what he could only describe as worry had taken its place. She had stared up, straight through him, wandering in the haze of her own mind, as though the effort of such a small contact demanded her eternal commitment.

And she had stopped. She had stopped so close that Kylo swore if she’d allowed herself that touch, he would have, by some new miracle of their bond, felt it. Even if he had not, the permission would have been granted, and he would have been free to sacrifice all he was to her for the second and last time. Perhaps that was why she had left him there, inches away, withering beneath his need and staring into the pools of her upturned eyes as he searched there, the smooth plunges of her cheeks, her trembling lower lip, the golden rise and fall of her chest—searched _anywhere_ for the faintest betrayal of consent.

Rey must have known this, for she had flinched as if scorched by the pyre beneath his skin. Her almond eyes had widened again before growing pained and glassy in that beguiling way that always announced her tears. Suddenly avoidant, she had fixated somewhere beyond him, her knitted eyebrows reinforcing a sudden misery, and Kylo had waited for her tensing mouth to tell him something, anything, even if it was no. _No, this isn’t real. No, this is wrong. No, I can’t forgive you._

_No, I don’t love you anymore._

Then, as suddenly as she had appeared, she had vanished from beneath his mouth. 

In Kylo’s perplexity, all that came after had been reduced to a lightspeed jump. He remembered looking up from the onyx floor where she’d stood. The Force had taken the rustic bed with her. Then, without warning, the surgery room had hummed back to life with the rhythm of Da’k Base. A nearby wall duct had exhaled a wealth of air onto Kylo’s clammy shoulders. 

The world had continued as if she’d never been there at all.

But she had. Searching his feelings, Kylo knew that Rey had truly been there. Traces of her power had remained, infusing the fabric of the Force around him like a lingering perfume. Frozen in the middle of the infirmary, he had reached out and followed those dynamic footprints to their limit. Help him, there had been no mistaking the strength and familiarity of that light energy.

Also indicative was the bond. Even now, hours later and untold light-years away from wherever she was, Kylo sensed the pull to her in all its rejuvenation. It resonated in the Force now like a dull itch: insatiable and enduring, though thankfully faint and manageable. No, it was nowhere near as debilitating as being near her, but it was there, omnipresent for the first time since she had walked away and, presumably, did all she could to sever her life from his.

Kylo placed his free hand where the window had yet to be blotted out. The climatic monster was close now. The constant electricity illuminated the white of his fingers with every bolt. Near them, a cascade of fiery sand neared collision. All that lay beyond had long since disappeared…like her.

Reliving the encounter another of a thousand times had not eased Kylo’s anxiety. Truthfully, he had not expected it to. Not a single detail had escaped his keen recollection, to the point where he feared his paranoia and what it might fabricate from nothing. To avoid this, Kylo chose to focus on the few obvious truths: Rey had obviously not meant to see him. Yet, despite this, she had not rejected him. She had balked, yes, but she’d shown no repulsion or anger, nor had she made any effort to flee or stop the projection.

In fact, when the shock had softened and she’d dared come to him, Kylo was certain he’d recognized a familiar look. He knew that look firsthand—knew _her_ like the ins and outs of his own tattered soul. Since that first day on Starkiller Base, it was a look she had reserved for him and him alone.

_Longing._ Innocent longing underscored by a lifetime of loneliness. And not just by look alone, but also whispered through their bound energy, as if her feelings were forever too immense for her body to contain. Somehow, Kylo had always known it. In the first days of finding her again, he had resented its powerful hold over him. Now he clung to it and the promise it held.

_From the start, always more than she seemed._

The last speck of Morcanth melted away mere inches from Kylo’s bruised jaw. The colossus had swallowed him at last, shutting him off from the outside world. His weary eyes were suddenly sealed behind a sandy sarcophagus. Fittingly, the man reflected in that copper sheen appeared pale and lifeless—dead to the world.

But Kylo was alive. The energy of the universe had ordained it. As if to highlight the folly of his life, the Force had connected him to her eternally. With a single touch, it had discredited the awful solitude that had shaped young Ben Solo’s life. As long as they both existed in the universe, neither of them was ever truly alone.

Hope was something Kylo had shaken off with the mud that had caked his youth. For him, and even for the boy he once was, it had proven over and again to be a fool’s construct. Action, results, agency, skepticism—these were far more reliable than faith. The dark side reserved its limitless potential for the dissenters and the realists. The hopeless.

And yet…if there were even the slightest chance that Rey could forgive him, Kylo knew he had to pursue it. His very soul compelled him, no matter how unworthy he was of her, no matter how futile his efforts might be. To need her with such disregard was unfathomably selfish; Kylo had long ago admitted that. The vile essence of his nature had marked her unforgivably. At first, he hadn’t believed he could change for her. Over and over, an alien selflessness Kylo hadn’t known he possessed had begged her to run as far away from him as she could get. However, her own faith in him—her unyielding _love_ —had given him the strength. And Kylo _had_ , he had proven he could be better for her, even resigning to abandon every pledge to the murderous, callous life that had shaped him. Help him, he had nearly said the words. He _should have_ said them.

Of course, by then, it was too late anyway.

Kylo lowered his brow and shut out the storm. As he’d hoped, the transparisteel was indifferent to the smoldering winds outside. The chill steadied him, easing his aching forehead.

The possibility rose again. All night, he had wrestled with the idea. Not since the endless days after she’d left had he given the prospect such consideration. His reasons then were obvious, as was his rationale for not having done it, and Kylo remained convinced that he’d chosen wisely. Who knows what he might have destroyed subjecting her to the raw, exposed sinew of his desperation, especially when her suffering had likely been— _had to have been_ —just as fresh and excruciating as his own. Beyond all doubt, nothing good could have come from it. He would have surely ruined any prospects for the future had he done it then. 

_Reach out to her._

Somehow, Kylo had always known he could find her if he tried. Among all Rey had taught him about himself, his capacity to feel, and his assumptions about the Force, she had instilled trust in the extraordinary potential of their link. She had shut him out that day, yes, her stunned, slender silhouette staggering into the Ilum sunlight like the lone survivor of a lost war. But Kylo had known the tie to her remained. The ancient river of their bond had carved a canyon through the universe, leaving an indelible trail either of them could follow. Last night had proven it, had even exceeded Kylo’s suspicions. 

He could have found her, even not knowing where she was. As blunt as that truth was, it remained another jewel in a palace of secret treasures Kylo hid from Snoke day after day, week after week, regardless of every command, punishment, and insult. Disappointing. Gullible. Weak. Foolish. An inept apprentice. A regrettable mistake. _“The girl must be found and brought to me at all costs. Fail me in this and your training shall forever be incomplete. Mark me, it will be your final failure in life.”_

Yes, Kylo had borne the brunt of his master’s wrath since the moment he’d left the bacta tank after Ilum. But he had endured it all for her, even agreeing with most of it despite his concealed perspective. He had even gone so far as to scatter the Knights of Ren throughout the galaxy to look for her in places he knew Luke would never go. All this and more he had done, and would do over again, to give Rey peace, to keep her safe from the atrocities of his miserable world…and to avoid her rejection were he to see her again.

But the chain of vacuous uncertainty had finally been broken. Fate had given him the faintest taste of her. Perhaps more importantly, it had revealed some semblance of her acceptance. Though they had drawn into infinity at the time, the months without her now resonated to Kylo like a dream from which he was finally waking. All that lingered from that coma was his paralysis: The idea of reaching out to her still filled him with dread. The temptation to leave things as they were was too great. After all, the neutral, ambiguous ground he now occupied was better than her outright refusal.

Once again, Kylo found himself back where he started, wandering in a maddening limbo where action and inaction posed equal risk. Not even when she had thawed his frozen heart and drawn the sentiment from its wellspring had he so despised his incapacity. Now, lifetimes later, he would gladly relive any of those early days, that painful inauguration when he’d raged against the feelings her touch, her eyes, her very presence inspired in him. If only he’d known then what he knew now. If he could have only grasped how worthless his identity truly was, how his ambitions paled in comparison to their union like a barren moon to a brilliant sun. If only he had understood, he would have silenced his conflict like an alarm, an alarm incessantly beeping….

Kylo opened his eyes against the dark glass. The comlink at his back sounded shrilly again. 

Startled by how far away his thoughts had dragged him, Kylo released the flesh he’d bitten inside his cheek and crossed to the foyer of his chambers. An unsteady finger fumbled for the blinking button.  


After a brief pause came Captain Phasma’s modulated timbre. “Commander Ren, the Supreme Leader requires your presence.”

Kylo pulled back from the embedded controls without a word of acknowledgment. His piqued curiosity was a welcome distraction from his restless mind. Snoke had not called upon him for nearly a week. Especially given Kylo’s repeated failings to produce Rey or Luke, such inattention was uncharacteristic of his master, who had always kept careful tabs on him.

This anomaly had been foreshadowed by their last encounter. Oddly brief, Snoke had concluded that meeting by telling Kylo to contact him for no other reason than finding “the girl.” Kylo had complied without question, but the exchange had left him suspicious. In more than a decade of Kylo adhering to Snoke’s guidance, not one of his master’s actions had lacked greater purpose. Now that he was older, Kylo recognized this fact, just he accepted the false empathy Snoke had shown young Ben Solo. That ruse had been necessary to place the boy on the path to power. Kylo had no place to fault his master’s methods, not when he was sure he would never have found his destiny without them.

_His destiny._ It was so empty without her.

_No. Not now. Prepare yourself. Find Kylo Ren._

In a sudden flurry of movement, Kylo ripped the sling over his thick hair and threw it to the ground. His mending shoulder protested instantly, murmuring in dull throbs as he lowered his left arm to his side. Those complaints came sharper as he whipped his cape about his shoulders. But Kylo refused to linger any longer than necessary, pulling his gloves tight and snatching his mask from its resting place next to his bed.

For both their sakes, he had to outrun thoughts of Rey before they could catch him anew.

Once more, he had to leave her to the sand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, that's it; I can't keep revising this chapter to death. I'm not entirely satisfied with it, but it is what it is and I can't keep delaying it. These internal thought-process scenes always play out very stream-of-consciousness, and as a result, I meander a lot and even get lost at times. Trust me when I say I did a ton of drafts and tried my best to chop up some of those crazy sentences to make everything flow more logically. Most of all, I tried to make it all meaningful to the character.
> 
> Whether I succeeded or not, who knows, but the goal was to provide some insight into Kylo's mindset, not just after the Force projection, but in the general sense of his life after Rey. Hopefully I succeeded in showing that his conscience has assumed a much bigger role than before, brought out and nurtured by the love and compassion Rey made him feel. His outlook has done a near 180, with the Ben Solo aspects of his personality regaining more ground. Now that Kylo is resigned to the fact that his love for Rey is all that matters, he fights an altogether different internal battle than in _Part 1_. Unfortunately, it's not all up to him. The darker corners of his psyche are still there, and Rey's hesitation might just be the thing that triggers them. Outside forces will certainly impact their relationship as well.
> 
> I hope you'll stick around for the next chapter, which, I promise, will have more dialogue and "action" to keep things flowing. It should also be posted a lot faster, as I'm done editing my friend's book and another friend's thesis (It's been a busy month). 
> 
> Until then, sending love to my Reylo family! You all are the best. I'm glad we've never stopped shipping together!
> 
> Music while writing: Emil Rottmayer - "S.O.L.O." and Youth 83 - "Euphoria"  
> Tumblr: Reylo Inspiration


	6. Against the Tide

6

Just as Rey expected, the sea had relinquished its hold on their beach by the time she went down to meet it. 

As she shuffled down the rocky hillside, Rey glanced up from her boots to watch the inlet engulf her. Gradually, the ragged horseshoe of their cove lifted its arms to the azure. Directly above in that sky was the sun, now blinding even on the dark ledges of the cliffs’ crumbling shelves. Moss the color of infant ivy cascaded down each bluff like spilt paint glistening beneath the glare. These patches ended abruptly at the fallen boulders that jutted from both sides of the cradled surf. Like a landing strip, the twin rock-lines stretched the full length of the sorrel sand, eventually disappearing beneath waves the color of polished turquoise.

Rey wiped her brow on one wrapped forearm. The sun seemed its hottest since they had come to Ushruu. Squinting, she felt her gathered hair absorb the rays and insulate the dewy back her neck. The feeling was compounded by the stillness of the day, as well as the stony barricades that enclosed their beach and broke the winds that cooled the camp above.

Of course, Rey never usually went down to the beach at this time of day, not to walk, meditate—not even to swim. In truth, she was only here now of her own necessity.

No sooner did her boots sink into the dry sand than something moved behind her. Rey spun back to the slope, her heart in her throat. Above her, a stray rock clattered down the path she and Luke had worn in the cliff-grass.

Rey released the breath she’d caught as the pebble thumped to a dead stop at her feet. The night had put her on such edge. Even now, her nerves were far too strained. All at once, Rey felt like picking back up where her sobs had left that morning. 

But she was not going to do that. By the Force, she was not going to shed another tear. She had already shed too many.

“Kriffing hell,” Rey whispered, masking her despair behind a nervous laugh.

She turned back to the ocean and plunked herself down next to the trespassing stone. The sand warmed her skin through her trousers as she pulled off one boot and foot covering followed by the other. She then dug her naked toes into the sand and rested her elbows on her bent knees. The delicate skin of each foot complained slightly of the searing heat, but Rey knew she could stand far worse. Despite her time in cold space, the simple thresholds that Jakku had conditioned in her remained intact.

Today was neither of the two days Rey fished for their dinner, nor was it the right time for the chore. High tide was always better, when the fish ventured high into the cove to snack on whatever might leave its gritty home. Then, Rey could wade up to her knees on the sandbar of their submerged shore and wait with the greatest patience for something to swim by. 

But really, Rey hadn’t known what else to do to keep avoiding Luke, at least nothing that would not worry him. Certainly, she had done all she could up to this point. She had smothered her heartache into her pillow until the tears had finally run dry and her body ached from holding back. When the dawn had finally broken, she had prepared Luke’s breakfast and left it outside his door with a small knock and a quick sprint. Then, in place of her normal morning meditation, she had veered into the forest with a basket of their clothes. 

Luckily, Luke had not followed, and the task had given her a couple hours of much-needed solitude. A shirt soaked in the water of the cool spring had eased her inflamed skin, and she had rubbed petals from the yellow-bud tree under her eyes for good measure. But never once in all that time did thoughts of what happened leave her mind.

Rey brought a flattened hand to her brow. The sea breathed in the bright distance, deceptively shrinking only to burst forward again in the round, robust curls always indicative of low tide. This barrage bounced off the ancient walls above Rey and filled her ears with every drawn-out roar. Beyond the clash and the seafoam, the bay glittered into infinity like the walls of a gem mine. Only one other time in her short life had Rey seen such brilliant sparkle.

Despite the heat, she shivered. For the first time since that terrible night, the memory of harvesting her kyber crystal was suddenly as clear as the horizon, for the first time far clearer than her recollection of the brutal scene that had followed. The moonlit frost had been so beautiful, every surface buried beneath the snowy sheen of time. 

_Kylo_ had been so beautiful, sending her into the Crystal Caves with all the confidence she had needed to succeed.

 _It’s all my fault._ Rey confessed it again, rubbing her sore eyelids with the same raised hand. _I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have even tried. But how could I have known?_

“Such a fool,” she exhaled, pushing herself back to her feet. 

Abandoning her boots at the grass-line, Rey marched toward the surf lest she stir her thoughts once more. But every blistering stride only kicked her scrutiny and sent it flying.

He had been so real standing there before her, so perfect despite lacking the wealth of details her mind had preserved and sealed away. His delicate, earthy scent, the supple velvet of his voice, the deceptively soft touch of his strong hands…even deprived of these things, Rey had marked the smallest, most visceral minutiae and found them even more disarming than she remembered. 

Help her, she had become her own worst enemy yet again. She had mindlessly, ardently drunk up every intoxicating second of him. In an instant, she had allowed his mere nearness to undo months of control she had fought so hard to attain.

All at once, Rey winced in the alkaline air. Looking down, she saw the striped coil of a nautilus crushed into the gray beneath her feet.

“You complete fool, Rey,” she whispered again, though not about her throbbing foot. Frustrated, she bent over, fumbled to roll her cropped pants the rest of the way up over her knees, and plodded onward.

If blame had to be placed, Rey accepted full responsibility. Being near him should not feel so natural, so fulfilling after all this time. Perhaps during their time together, when she had been so dreadfully naïve and vulnerable, she could have conceded it. But not now, not when she had grown so strong. It pained her to admit that certainty, that even disregarding their Force connection, he had always felt so…right despite all their shared difficulty. 

As much as Rey resented him, she had never denied her role in what had happened between them. Yes, he’d withheld their history, but every hollow atom of her being had pledged itself to him from the start. She had been his—unquestionably his—from the very instant he had revealed himself to her not as a monster, but as the misled man he had made her forget. All too willingly, she had risked her safety, her sanity—her very soul to stay by his side, and she had done this fully knowing how cold his blood ran. Who else could she fault for the feelings he drew from her? Who else could she condemn for the previous night and her foolhardy scheme? Why, after all he’d done, did that immovable weight in her chest lighten at the mere intangible sight of him?

How could she possibly _still love him_?

Rey stopped at the shoreline and waited for a large wave to tumble and hiss to its foamy end over her feet. She could not recall the sea ever feeling so refreshing. Its cool caress soothed her skin, washing the sand from her heels like a servant. The sensation differed so drastically from the more metaphysical way she unified her energy with that of the sea, its creatures, and the rest of terrestrial world. This contact was purely physical and wholly sensuous. Even in the bright sunshine, Rey felt the hairs stand at attention beneath her muslin-bound arms. She was abruptly aware of her body, even painfully aware, as if she had haunted the camp shore all this time as a ghost now suddenly made flesh. 

Though it paled next to the tenacity of her feelings for him, the severe way he had stirred her unnerved Rey nearly as much. Perhaps if he had not been just as she pictured in the memories she had drowned to survive—utterly radiating recklessness and raw voracity—he would not have affected her so. Thinking of the scene now, Rey wondered if he had even exceeded the object of her banished desire. It seemed the last six months had made him even more desperate and imposing, and by their balance, somehow more alluring. Larger than life, but still the pale skin and lush lips she knew would be icy to the touch until her own set them ablaze.

In the face of her agony, Rey now found herself flush with sensations long ago stamped out by his lies and betrayal. If only she did not what to look for, she might not have seen it through the surprise mirrored in his heavy-lidded eyes. It was the urgency of an animal held against its will—all instinct, apprehension, and primal hunger shielding his vulnerable heart. But Rey did know precisely what to look for, and her body understood exactly what it promised.

Despite the summer sun, the sheer thought sent a sudden chill through Rey. It pulsed as though her heart pumped blood so icy that it burned, descending lower and lower still, just as it did in those early days when despite how they bristled at one another, she could almost feel his every glance stripping her down to the bone.

Perhaps more frightening was that the familiarity of his offering—his very presence—had unearthed something equally wild and untamable in _her_. Beyond all doubt, it was the same thing he had awoken with his touch on Starkiller. Since the day she had left his world behind, her pain had overshadowed that inclination and all the prurient history it had begotten. And that had absolutely been for the best. Passion would always lay at odds with the peace of mind Rey absolutely required to grow. To be sure, she had known this in Kylo’s arms and chosen to ignore it. 

Even in Kylo's absence, Rey had not been able to rid herself of that tragic flaw. Yes, she had learned to achieve true concentration and serenity under the greatest stress. She had levitated the largest objects in their camp and run the gamut of Luke’s courses. Blindfolded, she had blocked the blasts of the training remote and sliced it from its orbit. But help her, she not yet conquered her most unconscious fear: that unruly part of her being, with its yearning for him so precariously tied to the dark side. This realization seemed more poignant than ever, now, when every inch of her body hummed with the feel of that desire. How could she possibly leave those vivid memories behind, those critical moments when right and wrong had been nothing more than words and her body, her heart, her very blood guided her to his? How could she escape the impulse to destroy herself when it was so perfectly natural?

The sea shattered like fine crystal against Rey’s ankles. She began effortlessly, descending the grainy slope carved by the crashing curls and battered shells. But unlike the surf at high tide, the farther she stepped, the lower the sand met her feet, and the deeper she sank, the harder she had to strain to break the waves. In the meantime, each and every droplet registered sharply on her suntanned skin. The flood nipped her hidden hips, its spray soaking the pale linen and cooling the blood beneath. Finally, it lapped the apex of Rey’s revived desire.

She gasped as the wave exploded and poured its froth over her thighs. 

Somehow, their forgotten fire had burned her back into feeling. The indications were so complex for such a simple fact. But Rey was powerless to deny it. She couldn’t possibly, not waist-deep in the rolling surf and now experiencing it—really experiencing it—for the first time. Even her lungs swelled with briny air she had never before inhaled.

_What have I done? What am I going to do?_

Though unsure of why she had chosen such a task, Rey scrambled to stay the course. Following her normal routine, she dug her toes deep into the quicksand of the seabed and extended her arms until her fingertips caressed the swirling surface. Here she would normally stay like a wading bird luring its prey, closing her eyes to the current and extended her feelings outward into the medium. The gentle wash would lull her with its rhythm, aiding her concentration until she had located the lifeforce of every passing silvereye and scalefish. She had only then to wait, as still as a sea goddess statue. Eventually, one would swim near and, testing her speed, Rey would spring into action, striking the water at lightning speed and snatching their dinner by the slimy gills.

Today was altogether different. The chop of the low tide forced her to wade deeper or be toppled with the whitecaps. Added to this was the tenacity of the breakers. As though the ocean recognized her disharmony and rejected it, each swell pulled her against her will only to throw her back toward the beach. Luke had taught her to swim within the first month of their arrival, but Rey’s confidence still teetered with her feet on the fine grit. She bounded weightlessly before each wave had its chance to pummel her chest, but the onslaught offered no opportunity to rest. Help her, she had not even thought to bring the collection net to fasten to her belt.

Nevertheless, Rey was determined. She had to calm her senses, had to attain some kind of normalcy after what had happened.

Rey shut out the rolling glare. Ironically, the light was always easier to find in the gloom of her consciousness. Blind in that darkness, she entrusted her body to the torrent, bobbing with the ebb and flow as she tried her best to gather her anxiety. There was no questioning whether serenity was possible; she knew it was, regardless of her state of mind. Such was the appeal of the light and the peace of mind it offered her arduous energy. Now was no different, no worse despite how it seemed…despite the door she had opened through the galaxy. The door she had opened in herself, to their past….

 _“It’s just for a short time.”_ The waves whispered what she had once dreamed. She had forgotten that cryptic reassurance, perhaps even blocked it out, until this very second. _“Just a short time, Rey.”_

And the universe had sighed in nebulous prose, repeating words Kylo had poured into her ear one perfect day: _“Anything is possible with the Force, Rey.”_

All at once, a wall of water cascaded over her memory. Rey suddenly found herself thrust back into her body, tumbling head over foot against the rough sea floor. Disoriented, she scrambled beneath the swell and rolled helplessly with the tide into shallower water.

Before she even broke the surface, Rey choked on the water she had inhaled, and when her scuffed knees at last found the bottom, she shot upward. The first jagged breath was dire but painful, sending her into an uncontrollable fit. Feeling utterly foolish, she crawled uphill on hands and knees and fell again, face-first, as the next wave collided with her backside.

Rey dug her fingers into the soft sand, sightless and wheezing as the spindrift splashed around her face. The salinity suddenly stung the passages from her nose to her chest, and she hurried to expel what she could from her smarting sinuses. 

_Another fantastic plan, Rey,_ she congratulated herself with all the sarcasm she could muster. 

When she finally pulled herself to the shoreline shoal, she wiped at her eyes until satisfied that she could open them again. Through the irritation, she squinted up at the golden beach she had left in her wake.

Robes the color of the sand sat motionless by her boots.

_Oh no._

Rey cringed as she continued to cough, fully aware of how ridiculous she must look. She found her footing fast then, raising herself out of the surf until it again rolled at her ankles where it belonged.

She did not even bother trying to form an excuse as she walked to join Luke at the foot of the cliff. Instead, she spent the time ridding herself of the last of the seawater in her throat. When the jag subsided, she wiped away the spit, brushed the sand off her clingy trousers, and pulled the loosened hair off her face. Not that any of this mattered, for Rey was certain she looked like a drowned rat.

As she neared, she found Luke sitting upright on a plank of driftwood adjacent to her shoes. His hands peeked from his generous sleeves as they rested on his knees. His sky-blue eyes showed neither surprise nor concern nor mockery, all of which she had seen more than once, written deep in the wrinkles of his face. Instead, he watched her approach with a stoic indifference, as if her actions were all too predictable.

Rey, on the other hand, found it impossible to disguise her embarrassment and disgust at her failure. What had she even thought she was going to accomplish?

When Rey was close, Luke produced a towel from under one arm and offered it up to her. Without a word, she accepted it and plunked down into the sand next to him.

They sat in silence then, Luke staring beyond the horizon and Rey sniffing and wiping at her face until her dried skin felt clammy and stuck against the cotton. When he at last spoke, the gravel of his aged voice was softer than the cloth he had given her. 

“It’s lovely here, isn’t it?”

Rey blinked her sore eyes at her teacher. That was the last thing she had expected him to say. But then again, Luke always had a knack for surprising her.

“Yes, Master Luke,” she agreed truthfully, squinting ahead again through salty lashes at the waves that had bested her.

“Where I grew up, I could barely imagine oceans as beautiful as this. I used to dream of them, especially when I was very young. I remember those days being particularly hot, when I was attached to my uncle’s hip as he showed me how to maintain the vaporators and the droids, how to drive the speeder to market and back…. But, afterward, I always dreamed of the ocean, or, at least, what I could picture in my imagination. I could almost feel the relief of jumping into the deepest, bluest parts. To have it surround me, to feel cool and clean after years of desert dust and sparse showers…and to drink it up as I did. What did I know as a child?”

Luke chuckled beneath his graying beard. Rey found that deep-chested laugh infectious, so rare it was to hear. She smiled widely into the cotton in her hands, enjoying the mental image of the small, platinum-haired farm boy Luke surely must have been. She then draped the towel around her dripping shoulders as his laughter faded back beneath the clamor of the sea.

When he continued, his tone had shifted. “I’m sure I needn’t tell you what it was like.”

Rey blinked down toward her dusty feet. She would never presume to compare their experiences growing up, but his words resonated in her soul. How many times she’d had the same thoughts growing up, slogging over the dunes, dirty, thirsty, and starving. Even the noontime sun that now dried the linen over her knees was nothing compared to that heat, that insufferable Jakku heat. Oh, those times when the price of water was so inflated that she had to sneak sips from the filthy Outpost troughs like a plain happabore…. And she recalled the headaches and the fatigue and how, at times, she would become physically ill only to have to return to her work dislodging this or uncoupling that. Then, in the cool night, she would collapse onto the blankets—still dirty, still thirsty, still starving—and, in the last few years of her scavenging, dream of the island with the rocky base. 

“Yes, master,” Rey agreed softly, her salty mouth feeling suddenly too dry.

“Just lovely here. Much of it reminds me of Ahch-To.”

Though she had only looked upon the planet from space, Rey saw the isle of her dreams clearly in the beige sand. She envisioned every emerald slope and majestic peak as it rolled to its steep cliff drop into the indigo sea. Her unconsciousness had beheld Ahch-To so many times that she felt like she knew every moss and stone. How coincidental that he would mention it now, only minutes after she had just thought of it for the first time since they’d arrived. Her dreams had not found that sacred place since she had shared Kylo’s bed on Ilum, not since decimating her with a prophesy of their separation...a prophecy that came true. That had also been the last time the ethereal voice of the stars had spoken to her soul.

_“It’s just for a short time. Just a short time, Rey. They were wrong, Rey. It is possible. Love is possible. It can be done. You will be the one to show them. Love transcends emotion. Love is not weakness. It is strength. Coexistence. Love and peace, together. You are the one to show them. Anything is possible with the Force, Rey.”_

Rey rejected the notion as soon as it flooded her mind. The universe could not have possibly been…encouraging her feelings.

“Kylah,” Luke said suddenly, dropping his clasped hands below his knees. “I hope you know by now…that you can trust me. You can confide anything in me.”

“I do know that, Master Luke.”

“You’ve grown so strong and capable. I knew you were special from the moment they brought you to me, the tiny little thing you were then. All through the years I searched for you, I always knew you would find the light. And when I felt your energy… _burst_ back to life and rattle the whole of the Force, you were already so much stronger than I could have ever foreseen. You possess wisdom far beyond your years, much wiser than I was at your age.”

“Master, please—”

“But even the wisest Jedi have pitfalls they must conquer. Even the most capable need occasional guidance throughout their lives. We all need a little help sometimes…all lose our way….”

Rey would have countered her panic with a feeble mess of reassurances if something in Luke’s voice had not shifted so drastically. Something very personal had stolen the breath of his concern—a melancholy she had never once sensed even in his weariest days. It caught her so off-guard, so abruptly, that Rey nearly forgot all her own troubles in lieu of her concern. Nearly…until Luke regained his focus and turned his head toward her. 

“I won’t pretend to know what happened before I found you again, when you were with—” 

Rey hissed a sharp breath through her teeth. The reflex surprised her, her body flinching as if his words had cut her flesh. Help her, she could not bear hearing Luke say the name she could barely speak herself.

Luke must have noted this, for he lowered his eyes from her profile and, in an act of unspoken mercy, abandoned whatever he had intended to say. Instead, he turned back to the gateway of their cove and seemingly pondered his next words.

“I just hope,” he continued at last, “that you will tell me if it…if _anything_ is troubling you.”

Rey steadied her shuddering chest beneath the cover of her towel. His compassion overwhelmed her, not just the kindness of his concern, but the great care he took to tread lightly about her bruised spirit.

And oh, she _wanted_ to tell him. By everything, she did, drowning beneath the violence and beauty of the unrelenting waves. And maybe she could have explained just enough to make him aware of what was happening. At the very least, she could tell him why she had been acting so strangely. 

But that was utterly impossible. Rey knew it then, and she knew it now. Her secrets were too tightly bound, too extraordinary, too deviant. She would never be able to put to words the nature of her ordeal. It was impossible to do so without disappointing him or ending her apprenticeship altogether. Even if he could forgive her failings, Rey knew his faith in her would be shattered and his image of her tarnished. He would never believe if she told him how she had done everything in her power to rid herself of the past that clung to her heels. If only the bond were to blame, really to blame behind it all… rather than her own feelings.

In place of truth, Rey offered Luke a smile as encouraging as she could make it. “Thank you, Master Luke.” And those thanks for genuine, for she truly was grateful for him, so thankful for all he had done for her her entire life. After all, he had saved her from death, and from something far worse: the dark. 

Rey leaned her cheek on hands clasped beneath the terrycloth. “I promise I’ll tell you if anything ever does.”

Looking down at her, Luke smiled with what Rey knew was perfect trust. “I could not be prouder of you, Kylah.”

“I thought the Jedi weren’t allowed to be proud,” she teased, kicking a small mound of sand over his boots.

“Well, then, I guess that’s my pitfall, hm?”

When Rey grinned then, the smile was genuine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to my Reylo family! I hope you're all doing well and staying sane in this crazy world.
> 
> I'm going to try to make this post short and begin by apologizing if this chapter seems a little rushed. Even if the delivery time might not seem like I rushed it, I had a hard deadline for it because another friend needs me to edit his book. Needless to say, the next chapter might take a few weeks while I get the book out of the way. Thanks, as always, for sticking with me through these long wait times! I really appreciate your patience!
> 
> Also, I apologize if the internal debates are starting to seem a little repetitive. I promise they'll get fresher in the next couple of chapters. The next chapter especially is going to introduce some outside complications that are going to play into our two heroes' journeys, so that should break up the monotony and get at least one of them outside their head for a while. I'm an overthinker and a brooder, so rolling the same things around in my head over and over doesn't seem so far-fetched, but I understand reading that kind of thing, even with an angsty character, isn't exactly a page-turner. :)
> 
> Just a note: I really enjoyed writing the end of this one because even though my focus is obviously our two protagonists, I've been wanting to develop Luke for a while now. I can't wait to explore him more in the future, and I hope you approve of the way I'm deviating from TLJ for his characterization.
> 
> The new chapter will bounce back to our Kylo, so I hope you'll be back to see what happens next. Until then, cheers to you all, take care, and thank you, as always, for all your support!
> 
> Music while writing: Ludwig Goransson - _Tenet_ OST  
> Tumblr: Reylo Inspiration


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